


How Delicate We Hang

by hedoro



Category: the GazettE
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Friendship, Lack of Communication, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overused fandom cliché(s), Sex (F/M), Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Swearing, Tags May Change, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2018-12-20 02:17:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedoro/pseuds/hedoro
Summary: In which Aoi and Uruha are too stubborn and scared to risk everything and thus, seemingly, settle for nothing. A story of mutual pining, love, misunderstandings and a fear of rejection.





	1. I'm Not Nearly Drunk

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone~ :3 I'm not sure how long this labour of infuriation and love will be, all I know is that it's a slow process and that updates will sadly be just as slow. (Sorry about that. D:)  
>    
>  I haven't written something of this magnitude in years, so despite my best efforts to keep them to a minimum, there will more than likely be continuity and spelling/grammar errors. *sweats*  
>    
>  Feel free to point out any mistakes that you might come across. :) But most importantly, I really hope you enjoy the story~ ♥

The situation was all too familiar. It was like Uruha had stepped directly into a memory. Only the surroundings that he happened to be standing in and the person he was staring at were different. But the situation, right down to the words he was hearing, was almost exactly the same.  
  
He stared at the dusty floorboards beneath his feet and wished that he could slip through the cracks and just disappear. While he was bothered by what his boyfriend was telling him, he wasn't so bothered about it that he would be reduced to tears. He wasn't the type for that. Besides, he had heard it all before, was thoroughly used to it at that point.  
  
However, being used to something didn’t mean that he was forced to put up with it. In fact, he wanted nothing more than to leave and never look back. Everything seemed to close in on him, the world around him seemingly becoming smaller and more claustrophobic. Everything about the present moment was suffocating him. He needed time to think, needed space to breathe.  
  
"We can't do this anymore," Hiro, the man he'd been sleeping with for the past few months, spoke in a sombre tone. The tinge of regret in his words seeped under Uruha's skin and into his bones. It clung heavily to the frayed edges of his mind and pooled into the nicks of his already scarred heart.  
  
Another failure, another notch to carve into his bedpost; just another reminder of how flawed an individual he was.  
  
Hiro watched him with sad eyes. He knew this relationship had been a record of sorts for Uruha. It kind of sucked that it was coming to an end. Uruha had been fun and so kind to him, but he could tell that he wasn't the one Uruha wanted. And if Hiro was honest with himself, he wasn't so serious about Uruha either.  
  
Though their relationship was fleeting like they both knew it would be from the very start and though it might not have been love to either of them, that didn’t stop it from being another blow to Uruha's already waning confidence in being able to hold onto a relationship and in being able to hold onto happiness.  
  
At its most fundamental point, it was still a rejection of who and what he was.  
  
Uruha nodded and smiled, bitter in his feelings. It might not have been anything near to love but somehow it still hurt all the same.  
  
"We can still be friends, though." The guise of a hopeful look on Hiro's face didn't fool Uruha in the slightest. It was all a ploy to keep the split amicable and as drama free as possible.  
  
Uruha let out a soft snort but agreed just to keep it short and bittersweet. The faster they got it over and done with, the faster he was able to get out of there. "Sure. We can still be friends."  
  
Yeah, right, like that would happen. They both knew that wouldn't be the case. As soon as Uruha walked out the door, that would be it. There wouldn't be any contact. Their time had come to an end, their relationship having played out its course. There was nothing more for them here.  
  
They had nothing in common aside from the fact that they happened to like sex and alcohol. It was rare that Uruha found a bedmate that had any shared interests with him, besides those two things. It was rare that anyone stuck around long enough for a deeper understanding and deeper connection to develop, let alone prosper.  
  
To his credit though, Hiro had far exceeded Uruha's expectations on that front. Hiro had put up with him for far longer than Uruha had ever imagined he would before he had finally become bored with and annoyed at Uruha. Or whatever the reason was for the breakup he was currently experiencing, and taking exceptionally well by his account, at that moment.  
  
The being said, when he did find someone like that; someone that had something more in common with him, someone who returned more than just basic feelings and actually took the time to get to know him, the breakups that followed were usually the hardest because he always invested a little more time and effort into them.  
  
In those more meaningful kinds of relationships, he actually tried to nurture a healthy, happy partnership with the other person despite knowing how fruitless it was to try.  
  
However, everyone deserved happiness or so his best friend, Reita, had always told him.  
  
So he always tried, always gave more, and never flinched when he received the barest amount in return. Though he always felt like he had lost a little piece of himself when it would undoubtedly end.  
  
And when it did end, when he lost himself yet again, he somehow always managed to find himself in someone who actually meant something. Someone that accepted him, no questions asked. Someone he could talk to, someone that always made him smile.  
  
Someone that happened to be Aoi.  
  
And as if to prove the theory, he smiled despite himself and the situation. He couldn't help it, it was an involuntary reaction.  
  
Hiro sighed and looked away, mumbling softly as he did. "I think it's best you go, Uru. I'm sorry it didn't work out between us."  
  
"Mm, I'm sorry, too, Hiro," Uruha replied and turned to leave. "See you around."  
  
And to an extent it was true. He was sorry. Sorry that his heart had already been taken. Sorry that he got himself into situations knowing full well they'd never work out because he would never be as devoted to them as he was to Aoi.  
  
Sorry... for what? For being human, for feeling loneliness more than other people did? Sorry for the shred of hope in his heart that maybe, just maybe, he and Aoi were destined to be? Mostly he was just sorry for the way his heart couldn't let go of the what-ifs that played in his head like a never-ending Zoetrope.  
  
As soon as he exited his now ex-boyfriend's apartment, the first thing he did was pull out his phone and dial the first number in his long list of contacts. Uruha waited patiently as he listened to the dial tone. The line picked up after six rings and as if to prove how much of an idiot in love he was, he had counted them in anticipation with bated breath.  
  
"Uruha? What's wrong?" came a rushed response, as if Aoi had run to answer the phone.  
  
Maybe he'd caught him at an inopportune moment?  
  
Uruha cleared his throat and tried not to blush at the way his name sounded coming from Aoi's mouth. "Are you okay, Aoi? Did I catch you at a bad time?"  
  
"No, no," Aoi assured him quickly. "I was just about to hop in the bath, is all."  
  
Uruha's chest felt tight and his heart thudded loudly in his ears. Aoi, in the bath? He really didn't need to know that. He regretted asking as his thoughts began to border on lewd. Less than fifteen minutes after his most recent breakup and already he was thinking of Aoi in ways that no friend should ever think. Some would say that Uruha's addiction was alcohol but it wasn't, not at all. If anything, Aoi was his addiction and he couldn't stop himself from falling down the rabbit hole.  
  
His thoughts were, thankfully, interrupted before his mind had the chance to stir up feelings anew by Aoi's questioning words. "Uru? You there?"  
  
Uruha cringed and tried to still his heart and quiet his wayward mind. "Uh, yes, sorry. Um... How did you know something was wrong?"  
  
Oh, how he sounded like a bumbling idiot. Or worse, a teenager. But whether Aoi noticed it or not remained unknown.  
  
"I'm psychic, obviously," Aoi replied. He could hear the mirth in his band mate's voice.  
  
"Oh, yeah? What am I thinking about right now?" Uruha teased, already feeling a lot better now that his floundering had hopefully gone unheard.  
  
He could hear Aoi take a breath, and imagined Aoi’s chest puffing out in a boastful manner. "Pfft, that's easy. You're gonna get us some alcohol and after that, you're coming over to mine."  
  
Uruha laughed, rather perturbed at just how well Aoi knew him. "Well, if the band ever fails, at least you have a job reading minds."  
  
_Just a shame you can't read hearts_ , Uruha lamented to himself, unable to stop the resentful tinge that plagued his thoughts.  
  
Aoi laughed softly. "I'll leave the door unlocked for you."  
  
"Okay," he replied in a reserved manner. "See you soon."  
  
After hanging up, Uruha meandered his way through the streets of central Tokyo, picking up four bottles of some much-needed source of antics and amusement on his way over to Aoi's place. Upon arriving at Aoi's front door, Uruha found that just like Aoi had said, the door was unlocked so he slipped inside quietly and shucked his shoes off at the entrance before moving farther into the apartment.  
  
He looked around, wondering where Aoi was but stopped short when he saw Aoi's wet, towel-clad form exiting the bathroom.  
  
"I'll be through in a minute, Uru. You know the drill, make yourself at home," he called out from his bedroom.  
  
Oh, _great_. Just what he needed.  
  
Uruha groaned under his breath and headed toward the kitchen, trying his best to shrug off the awkwardness he felt at that moment. He thought he had taken long enough to get here. After an hour of wandering and thinking, surely Aoi should have been out the tub, dried and dressed, by now. Then again, it was no secret that Aoi had a habit of marinating in warm water until he resembled that of a prune.  
  
It seemed that Aoi's mother hadn't lied when she had referred to her son as a water-baby in front of the band once when Aoi had doused himself in a bucket of water. Perhaps it was because Aoi had grown up by the sea and it was now embedded in his bones; a feeling that didn't settle until he dove under the calming waves.  
  
Uruha's shoulders slumped as he realised what a bad idea it had been to come over. Aoi was a constant reminder of everything he tried hard to deny. His affection toward Aoi bordered on indecent.  
  
Thoughts of Aoi plagued his mind far too much for it to be innocent. He always felt bad for deceiving Aoi when he initiated entirely selfish shows of affection. Though if Aoi minded, he never showed it. Uruha guessed that Aoi had put it down to his need to be affectionate with everyone he was close to.  
  
Upon entering the kitchen, Uruha sighed lightly and went to sit at the small dining table off to the side while he waited for Aoi to return. His body felt heavy from all the walking he had done in the last hour. His heart felt heavy too, but for an altogether different set of reasons.  
  
Propping his chin on the palm of his right hand, he sat there enjoying the brief solitude and allowed himself to wallow in his thoughts some more.  
  
Everything was different when it came to Aoi. With the others, he felt nothing but friendship. However, whenever he engaged in anything with Aoi, it always left him reeling. When it came to Aoi, Uruha was a walking dictionary definition for schoolboy crush. Except, he was a lot better at hiding it than his thirteen-year-old self would have been able to back then.  
  
"Hello, Earth to Uruha," Aoi smirked, waving a hand in front of Uruha's face.  
  
Uruha blushed and was instantly pulled from his musing. Oh, he hadn't even realised Aoi was standing there. With any luck, Aoi hadn’t been waiting too long.  
  
Uruha coughed and tried to stop himself from staring at the way Aoi's damp hair clung to his neck and the way droplets of water rolled down sun-kissed skin to soak into the edge of the deep v-neck jumper he wore.  
  
On a somewhat bitter note, Uruha thought that Aoi may as well not be wearing anything because it sure as shit didn't keep anything to the imagination. While Aoi liked loose, dangling stage outfits, the same couldn't always be said for his regular clothing.  
  
"Ah, shit, sorry. I was just thinking," Uruha spoke in a sheepish manner and tried his best to keep eye level with Aoi's face.  
  
Aoi grinned down at him, affable and warm, before snagging the bag of alcohol that Uruha was still holding in his left hand. A second later Aoi had placed it on the small kitchen island near them and went about grabbing a corkscrew from the drawer nearest to him.  
  
"About?" Aoi prompted with a raised brow, letting Uruha know that he was there to lend an ear should he need it. He uncorked the bottle and took out two glasses to pour some wine into.  
  
Uruha shrugged as he got up from the table, watching the way Aoi's hips shifted like the ebb and flow of water as he moved around the kitchen. The jersey sweatpants Aoi was wearing did nothing to hide the slight swell of his arse.  
  
_Fuck, I have got to stop thinking like this_ , Uruha scolded himself.  
  
"Uhm, I– That is to say– I, uhm..." Uruha floundered, his words lost somewhere in the back of his throat, and grabbed onto the lifeline that Aoi supplied him with in the form of a generous glass of wine. Drinking it down in a few gulps, he stared at Aoi with a pitiful look and tried to focus on anything but the inappropriate thoughts in his head.  
  
"What happened this time?" Aoi prompted in a gentle voice, concerned over Uruha's distress and a little worried at the rate that Uruha had chugged down the wine like it was water for elephants.  
  
Uruha thanked whichever poor, unfortunate soul was forced to look out for his idiotic arse from above and latched onto Aoi's question, glad for yet another lifeline thrown to him by Aoi. Though this time it was given to Uruha by way of Aoi's obliviousness to the inner workings of his mind.  
  
No less, he was grateful, if left feeling a little guilty.  
  
"I don't know," Uruha mused in a quiet timbre, staring at the now empty glass in his hands as he leaned against the kitchen island. "We didn't have anything in common really and you know how the band takes precedence. Especially now that we're about to start recording a new album and everything. I guess he got annoyed that I wasn't answering his calls at twelve in the morning for well, you know..."  
  
He blushed and ducked his head in a bid to avoid the intense stare Aoi pinned him with. Despite not seeing it, he still felt the power behind it, still felt the way Aoi's dark eyes roamed over his body, scrutinising yet concerned. He shifted on the spot, a little uncomfortable with the way his skin seemed to prickle under his clothes. He was sure Aoi had picked up on everything, from the slight shame he felt to the insecurity and need to feel accepted, to not be judged.  
  
Aoi's knack for reading people always came in handy at times like this when Uruha didn't know how to express himself properly. Aoi always seemed to understand what he meant even when Uruha had said nothing at all. It was both a blessing and a curse for him. It meant that he always had to be extra vigilant about how he carried himself in Aoi's company and that he had to be so very careful when it came to just how much affection he showered Aoi with.  
  
While Aoi was oblivious to his advances and affections, he was exceptionally perceptive in other ways. How much his enigmatic crush truly knew, Uruha would never know because Aoi never, ever let on.  
  
Aoi sighed and pushed himself away from the counter he was resting against in order to better see Uruha. He reached over the island between them to tip Uruha's head up, to make Uruha look at him.  
  
"You're not a booty call, Uru, believe me," Aoi told him in a tone that was tender and sincere. "You don't see yourself the way myself or the others see you and that saddens me because I know who you are and what you can and will give freely to those around you. You're a beacon of so much light and adoration, ’ruha. I don't understand how the people you date can't see that. It baffles me."  
  
Uruha smiled in a timid manner at Aoi's words, at the way his noir eyes softened to a warm brown, at the way his fingers cradled his jaw. Everything about Aoi made him feel uneasy and comforted all in the same breath. He had this remarkable ability to make Uruha's heart trip and have his stomach tie itself in knots, have his skin tingle and his chest ache. It was safe to say that Uruha had never met and probably would never meet anyone else quite like Aoi.  
  
Aoi was unique in all that he was and all that he did. Only he had the ability to make Uruha feel the way he did. Aoi had the potential to make or break his day, and sometimes Uruha wasn't all that comfortable with that notion.  
  
Uruha shrugged and broke away from the closeness that almost bordered on intimate. He needed to put some distance between them, it was too close for comfort; it hurt having his deepest desires flaunted in front of him, just teasing inches away. All he had to do was reach out, take hold of, touch and feel something real and tangible beneath his fingertips… but he couldn’t. The bigger part of him knew how wrong it was to feel anything like this for his friend.  
  
He sighed and watched, with sullen eyes, as Aoi took a drink from his own glass.  
  
"I should just take a leaf out of your book. What's your secret? You never seem to have problems maintaining relationships," he spoke, somewhat affected by his thoughts. However, he didn't mean for it to come out so bitter sounding but the words were out before he could stop himself.  
  
Aoi snorted into his glass, almost choking on the liquid as he sipped and swallowed it down. "Uruha, you don't even know the half of it," he half laughed, half wheezed.  
  
Uruha rolled his eyes, unconvinced by Aoi's words. "Oh, really? Feel free to enlighten me, Aoi. Hands up: who here has had a relationship last longer than six months?" he teased, trying to mask the sourness in his voice.  
  
Aoi shrugged and smiled, though it seemed pained. "Okay, yeah, sure I got you beat on that front but I don't mean it like that. We all have our demons, Uruha," Aoi said, pausing for a brief moment as he thought about his next words. "Sometimes it takes a lot to fight them just to get to the good stuff and even then, who's to say we're ever truly happy in the end?"  
  
Processing Aoi's words, Uruha let them sink in and frowned. "It sounds a lot to me like you settle for less than you should," he said quietly, before taking the bottle of red wine with him as he moved toward the living room.  
  
Aoi trailed after him, caught up in his own little world for a moment. "Perhaps we both do?" he said and lay down on the sofa, watching as Uruha sat on the floor and topped their glasses up.  
  
Uruha sighed. "I think it's pathetic to always want something you'll never have," he grumbled mostly to himself and focused on knocking back the alcohol in his glass.  
  
He was being rather cruel to himself, and to Aoi, he realised. But at that moment, he didn't care. His thoughts were all over the place and though his anger at himself and the messed up situation was tempered by the slight haze of alcohol in his system, it didn’t stop him from feeling upset.  
  
Upset with himself for being in love with one of his best friends, unable to do a damn thing about it. Annoyed at his stubborn heart for being so stuck on loving someone who would never reciprocate due to so many reasons. Annoyed at Aoi for his inability to understand quite exactly what Uruha wanted from him. Annoyed at his stupid obliviousness. His dumb, handsome face.  
  
Life was unfair.  
  
Even more unfair was Uruha for being upset with Aoi. Aoi who hadn't done a thing wrong. Aoi who stood by him when no one else did. Aoi, Aoi, Aoi... That's all he could ever fucking think about. He sighed under his breath. He was being so petulant, it was sickening. He scolded himself silently, how dare he act this way. It wasn't right for him to act like such a child.  
  
The sound of the final dregs of wine being poured into Aoi's glass trickled into his head and interspersed with his thoughts. Looking at the empty bottle in Aoi's hands, he felt a kindred spirit in it. He was full of words ready to spill out but he dared not speak a word of any of it, lest he lose everything he'd worked so hard to keep.  
  
They sat there quietly in their thoughts. Aoi stared at the ceiling in a preoccupied manner while Uruha rolled the glass in his hands back and forth, watching as his fingers left smudged prints and dirtied the glass into a clouded state. He let the empty glass slip from his fingers and land on the floor with a muted _thud_.  
  
He was almost saddened by his actions. However, he didn't think on it too much. Staring at the glass, he realised something and his mouth quirked into the barest hint of a broken smile, concealed behind blond strands. It threatened to undo him.  
  
In some way, he noted, it was nice to ruin something other than himself for once. Nice to ruin something once pristine. Just like Aoi had done to Uruha the minute he had walked into Uruha's life with a cool smirk and sultry eyes.  
  
Aoi, three years his senior, had been so confident in his introductions to Uruha and the rest of the band, that his insecure, lanky, awkward self had been so caught up in Aoi from then on.  
  
He wasn't a virgin when they'd met, far from it at twenty years old, but he was inexperienced when it came to actually loving someone. It just so happened that, upon meeting Aoi, he soon became well versed in all the nuances and ups and downs of a love unrequited. And it just so happened that the guitarist sitting behind him had no clue how he'd stained Uruha, marred his heart and mind like no one else come before him. He had no clue to just how hard Uruha had fallen for him from day one.  
  
While their band had profited from a second guitarist, Uruha had been provided with a slow, bittersweet self-destruction that he sank into willingly; unable to abstain from the all-encompassing, addictive feeling of being smothered to death by the best and worst thing that had ever walked into his life.  
  
Sometimes, on his more morbid days, Uruha would catch himself wondering if it was better to get hit by a bus than continue to feel all the emotions that bombarded him constantly, without repose. It sure seemed like a bus was a little more compassionate than having to endure love and all of its facades.  
  
Uruha didn't know what he hated more: himself, or the fact that he'd chosen the only person on the planet that he knew he could never have.  
  
He sighed and frowned.  
  
With the last remnants of the wine spilling down Aoi's gullet, Uruha came to the sad realisation that they were out of alcohol. If he was to get shit faced, it would require him replenishing their stock. On one hand, he was comfortable on the floor, back pressed to the sofa. On the other hand, oh, how he badly needed to quell the thoughts in his head and dull the sting inside of his rib cage.  
  
"I'm not nearly drunk enough," he announced, breaking the silence between them and got up to get yet another bottle with which to drown his sorrows. Though the way he moved almost belied his words. After downing the few glasses of wine he had, it seemed the alcohol was already having some kind of effect on him.  
  
Leaving Aoi on the sofa to stare at the ceiling some more, Uruha didn't hear the quiet response from Aoi as he was already halfway to the kitchen and much too focused on his quest for more alcohol.  
  
"No, I don't think we are," Aoi replied, a little too belatedly.


	2. So, About That Drink?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we all know why I have some spoilers in the tags. You get to read both perspectives, so it was never going to be a big secret. ;3 Now it's just a case of frustration and idiocy from here on out.
> 
> Also, I know this update is rather fast, but it won't always be like this. **There will probably be a month or so between updates.** I'm really sorry if that disappoints anyone. This update is only happening because I had it prepared already. 
> 
> Thank you for the lovely comments and kudos, but mostly, thank you for reading. It means a lot to me. ♥

Taking a final sip from the glass in his hand, Aoi sighed and gently set it down on the floor. He stared at the spot where Uruha had been sitting before he'd vacated it in search of alcohol and wondered what had been happening in Uruha's head in the time that they'd been silent. Unbeknown to Uruha, Aoi had watched him intently and felt the compulsion to brush strands of hair out of Uruha's eyes, wanted nothing more than to smooth out the lines of a frown that he knew would be marring Uruha's face.  
  
Aoi had laid there, ignoring the feelings that were urging him to act and instead focused on memorising the contrasting mix of sharp and soft features of Uruha's profile. The gentle slope of his nose, the full lips that he'd been bullied for all his life, the furrowed brows and the creases in his forehead from stress, the brooding, aureate eyes under long lashes that hid so many secrets.  
  
He already knew Uruha's face like the back of his hand, could even pinpoint exactly where the freckles on Uruha's neck were from a distance. But still, there was always something new for Aoi to learn about the other. It seemed that Uruha was an unending puzzle that would take him an age to solve.  
  
Whether it was a secretive look that was passed his way, a smile that stretched so wide that it would threaten to split Uruha's face apart, or even dark, amber eyes that reflected emotions that Aoi only wished he could understand, it didn't matter what; Aoi always felt the need to commit even the smallest detail to memory until he could shut his eyes and still see Uruha permanently burned into the backs of his eyelids.  
  
Because that was what Uruha was; unforgettable, in every sense of the word.  
  
Even now, after Uruha had come to the conclusion that alcohol was the solution to all of his—maybe even _Aoi's_ —problems, and consequently wandered off to get more, Aoi still couldn't put Uruha out of his mind.  
  
He could hear Uruha faffing around in the kitchen, opening drawers and making a racket. It was obvious to anyone listening that Uruha's hands leaned a fraction too close to overzealous in their actions, suggesting that perhaps he was taking out his frustrations on the kitchen cabinets.  
  
Aoi winced as a rather loud bang reverberated through his apartment. _Well, that'll be the cupboard shut then_ , he thought in a sarcastic tone.  
  
He would have gotten up to help his tipsy friend-cum-infatuation but the feeling in his gut told him that it was probably for the best that he didn't. It seemed as if Uruha needed time alone in the kitchen to be by himself with his thoughts and whatever else was keeping him company inside his head at that moment. His bitter attitude was easy to see. If he was trying to conceal it, he was doing a fine job of it.  
  
Overall, it seemed like Uruha needed some space to process and it wasn't like Aoi couldn't afford him that. Besides, with the way that Aoi was feeling, he too felt he could use that time to gather himself into less of a mess and maybe even figure out his own jumbled up emotions.  
  
Well, maybe. Uruha always did confuse him.  
  
He didn't understand it. How could Uruha not know? How could Uruha be so oblivious when he was being so painfully obvious?  
  
From the way he acted around Uruha to the way he always tried to make Uruha feel good about himself; all of it he did with love. It wasn't like he was trying to hide it. From the moment he had met Uruha he had wanted Uruha in ways he could only ever imagine.  
  
He knew that Uruha liked him but in what way and to what extent, he wasn't really sure.  
  
In all the years that had passed between them since he'd joined the band, he had yet to know Uruha in every conceivable way that his heart desired. Instead, he'd sat on the sidelines watching Uruha grow from a gangling, shy young adult dressed in clothes that hung off his frame into the somewhat confident, steadfast man he was now—though his taste in clothes still left a little to be desired.  
  
Over the years Aoi had watched Uruha fall and get back up countless many times. He was forced to watch as Uruha seemed to never learn and doomed himself to continue repeating the same mistakes. It was a constant cycle that frustrated Aoi to no end. He just didn't understand how Uruha could continue to willingly do that to himself.  
  
God, how he wanted to shake some sense into him and ask him what made him fall into bed with unimportant nameless, faceless bodies only to get his heart broken time and time again.  
  
Sure, it was true that he was quite perceptive but in this, Aoi was unable to figure out just why Uruha was the way he was. It saddened him but he would never ask because it was such a touchy topic for Uruha. Instead, he would always let it linger on the edge of his mind and wait for Uruha to come to him when his relationships eventually broke down.  
  
Because they did, they always did in the end. It was routine by now, just like clockwork.  
  
In those moments, like now, he caught glimpses of the real Uruha. An Uruha that was, sadly, just as broken as his failed, misplaced attempts at happiness.  
  
Most of the time though, as much as it pained Aoi to think, Uruha concealed the vast majority of himself behind a mask that he wore near constantly, that was, for the most part, reserved only for Aoi.  
  
It was as if Uruha put up a front to keep him at bay. Always using it to create a canyon-like gap between them that Aoi could never hope to traverse.  
  
At this rate, he would never ever be able to break down the walls that Uruha built up so thick around himself. It hurt to know that Uruha still continued to keep things from him after all their time of knowing each other, of being friends, when all Aoi wanted to do was protect him and help him through any and all manner of issues that Uruha faced in life.  
  
He wanted to be there for Uruha, not just out of friendship but selfishly out of love, too.  
  
Aoi wished so badly that he could be the one to claim Uruha's heart, that he could be the one to make him as happy as Uruha deserved to be. He wanted Uruha to need him like he needed Uruha. He wanted to be one of the reasons that Uruha got up in the morning, he wanted to share everything in life, the good and the bad, with him if only he was allowed.  
  
He didn't just want to be a voice on the end of a phone call on the occasional morning shouting, "Yo, Uru, get your ass up. You're gonna be late, _again_." He wanted to be the one to rouse him in person, to be able to press a kiss or two between Uruha's shoulder blades and wipe the sleep from his eyes. He wanted late nights, drunk fucking and brushing back the strands of hair from Uruha's face. He wanted pillow talk and the inevitable ugly side of the morning after; morning breath and tired eyes, under-eye bags and all.  
  
If given the chance, he knew he could make Uruha feel more alive than any of those other people he'd screwed around with. But it seemed like that was always only ever going to be one of the many wet dreams he woke up from, covered in sweat with his hands stuffed down his boxers.  
  
Just once he wanted to have Uruha act just as carefree around him as he did the rest of the band.  
  
Of course, that wasn't to say that Uruha wasn't warm and loving around Aoi, too. However, it was never to the extent that he was with everyone else. When Uruha hugged him, he felt the tension in Uruha's limbs and the way he would stiffen against him as if it pained him to be near Aoi. It was like Uruha could never truly feel at ease around him, could never truly open up to him.  
  
It didn't feel fair to him that he was left out of the interaction that was free from the anxieties of unsaid words. All he wanted was Uruha to... _to what_? Accept him? Accept his desires? Accept the fact that Aoi was in love with him?  
  
There was no doubt about it, Aoi realised just how selfish he was being.  
  
Wishing for Uruha to return his affections when Uruha didn't seem to like him as anything more than a friend. When Uruha didn't even know of his feelings. Not forgetting that they were friends, for God's sake. What was he thinking? This wasn't some dumb manga; people didn't automatically start loving someone after confessions of that nature.  
  
He felt so stupid.  
  
On the very good odds that Uruha didn't know of Aoi's feelings, what the hell was Uruha supposed to think if Aoi finally clued him in on the big, fat elephant in the room between them? He could see that going down swimmingly. "Oh, you're in love with me? That's fine by me. We've only known each other for a million years and you plan on dumping that on me only now? Okay, cool."  
  
_Yeah, that would be right, Aoi. You dolt_ , he thought, unable to stop the sardonic snarl of embarrassment at himself and his feelings. He was an idiot for even letting his emotions run away from him, for even thinking thoughts of that nature in the first place.  
  
Aoi groaned and resisted the childish urge to vent his frustrations upon the pillow he was using to rest his head on. Considering it sounded like Uruha was already half way through destroying his kitchen, it was probably best not to add to the causalities of his apartment.  
  
He breathed in, taking a deep breath and tried to calm the annoyance bubbling away inside of his body. Maybe it wasn't that at all, he reasoned. Perhaps he wasn't giving Uruha enough credit, perhaps he was looking at the whole situation the wrong way.  
  
Maybe Uruha _had_ noticed where his affections lay but said nothing of it so as not to hurt him? Maybe he kept Aoi at arm's length to maintain their friendship for the sake of both themselves and the band?  
  
Aoi sighed. It hurt to think. Confusion plagued his mind and left him unsure of everything.  
  
He could understand if Uruha was trying to save him the heartache and pain of an unrequited love but if that was the case, he would rather Uruha just tell him as much because being left in the dark hurt more than knowing that he had no chance with him.  
  
At least that way he could always try to move on instead of being stuck on what ifs and the fantasies that played in his head.  
  
But that was rather hypocritical of him, though, wasn't it? There he was thinking such things about how Uruha should be the one to be honest with him, yet Aoi didn't even have the balls to tell his fellow guitarist about his feelings because he feared rejection too much and feared that he might ruin the special, albeit strange, bond they shared.  
  
How could he place blame at Uruha's feet for his own feelings? That was hardly fair of him. Perhaps it should be him the one to man up and confess and to hell with the consequences. That way he'd know for sure exactly what was what.  
  
Then again, everything was always easier said than done. Maybe he could just live with the circumstances that he found himself; maybe his heart would one day resolve itself to loving his current girlfriend, Masako, instead. He could only hope.  
  
They'd been together on and off, for the better part of two years. He owed it to her, at the very least. He knew she was in it for the long haul if he would just say the words that she wanted to hear the most from his mouth. But still, he couldn't, as unfair as it was to her, to him... He just couldn't.  
  
She was equal amounts of gentle, thoughtful and loving versus strong willed, sarcastic and independent. Long, dark hair and sharp features with a soft heart and soft curves. She was always there when he needed her and he tried to be there for her in turn. Everything a man could hope to have in a woman, she was it. She accepted his lifestyle, accepted his sexuality, accepted him with open arms. She really was someone he could see himself settling down with. Starting a family with, even.  
  
But she wasn't Uruha. And he hated the fact that he compared them to one another constantly. He was a vile excuse for a human being. He had the devotion of a beautiful woman but he was selfish and it wasn't enough. Yet the idea of giving her up to someone else, it wasn't a notion he was comfortable with.  
  
It was true after all, he really was a sick individual.  
  
If he couldn't have Uruha, he wanted Masako. Yet he couldn't have her fully and vice versa for her of him until he gave up the ghost of Uruha entirely. Except, he wasn't quite strong enough nor ready enough for that yet. Maybe some day soon, but not then. Not while Uruha still needed him as a friend to lean on.  
  
While Uruha might have been a lot more careful around Aoi, he could never deny that Uruha wasn't ever so attentive to his needs and making sure that he was happy. Uruha may not have liked him as anything more than a friend but he was forever showing Aoi how much he cared for him in other ways.  
  
And that was one of the things that kept him from giving his heart away to Masako. It was one of the reasons Aoi loved him. Even when Uruha was in the most bitter of moods, he still had time for Aoi. Uruha always made time for him and that meant the world to Aoi, as horribly cheesy as that sentiment was.  
  
The least Aoi could do was be selfless toward one of the people he cared for. At the very least, he had to show Uruha the same courtesy, not just out of a selfish desire to be wanted and needed, but because Uruha had been there for him in some of his darkest moments and he wanted to do the same for Uruha.  
  
Aoi grumbled. For fuck's sake, why did he do this to himself? Every time his thoughts always came back to Uruha. And as if on cue, Uruha suddenly stumbled back through the hall and into the living room.  
  
"Look what I got!" Uruha chirped in excitement.  
  
Uruha's low mood had seemingly evaporated in the short amount of time that he'd been in the kitchen, Aoi noted as he turned his head from his staring contest with the ceiling to face an amused Uruha. His eyes were hazy with alcohol and his lips were slightly damp and Aoi found that had to tear himself away from staring at Uruha for longer than what was deemed appropriate by society's standards.  
  
While he was glad to be dragged from the inner turmoil going on in his head, he was nervous to be in the presence of the person that occupied his thoughts an unhealthy amount of the time. He shifted into an upright sitting position and noticed how Uruha had brought along with him two shot glasses and a bottle that was verging on just two thirds full.  
  
The way Uruha held onto the bottle made it seem like it was somehow a lifeline, or a security blanket of sorts, for him. It was obvious Uruha had already partaken of that particular beverage. It was evident by the rosy blush of warmth on his cheeks, and by the fact that there was a good chunk of alcohol missing from the bottle.  
  
Uruha moved closer to Aoi, mindful of the coffee table in front of the sofa. He held the bottle out to Aoi, gently waving it in his direction until Aoi relented and took it from his clammy hand. Aoi grimaced upon examining the proffered poison Uruha had chosen for them.  
  
"Tequila? Really, Uru?" His voice sounded a little incredulous. Though, somehow, it was something Aoi had come to completely expect from Uruha.  
  
Uruha’s laugh was soft and his smile was lopsided and almost sheepish. "I drank some already."  
  
"I can see that, yes," he responded in a teasing manner.  
  
Aoi couldn't help the grin that formed on his lips, unable to stop himself from smiling along with Uruha. Uruha had an infectious laugh and a smile that lit up any room he walked into, it was impossible not to break into a giggle or crack a smile with him around.  
  
He knew what Uruha wanted of him.  
  
Aoi let out a sigh and responded to the unvoiced question Uruha posed. "I know what you're going to say and the answer is no."  
  
Uruha's bright smile blended into one of a more tepid nature.  
  
"Please? For me?" Uruha pleaded, voice a pleasant lull as he moved in even closer to Aoi and stared at him with brown eyes full of hope and a lingering sadness.  
  
So close he could feel Uruha's breath ghosting across his lips.  
  
Aoi suppressed a shiver at their proximity. The smell of Uruha's breath, both sweet and bitter from alcohol. The way Uruha drew his bottom lip into his mouth to nibble on it, shy and nervous as he awaited affirmation or rejection. All of it had Aoi fighting himself between leaning in to kiss full lips and pulling away because this was Uruha, his best friend and he was drunk and it was inappropriate to take advantage of that.  
  
He settled on pulling away. Glad that Uruha wasn't even aware of his internal struggle.  
  
"I got dumped earlier. This'll cheer me up."  
  
The words coupled with Uruha's gentle tugging of his hand on the hem of Aoi's t-shirt did nothing to help Aoi's resolve. How could he deny Uruha this when he was basically wrapped around Uruha's little finger. All he had to do was tilt his head just so and pout a little bit. Uruha had no idea what he was doing to him.  
  
He may as well have been tugging at Aoi's heart strings instead of his t-shirt.  
  
"It's not like I'm asking you to kill someone. It's just a bit of unassuming tequila," Uruha mocked.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Aoi stared at the ceiling for a moment in contemplation, knowing full well that he could never deny Uruha anything.  
  
"Okay, okay, fine," he relented, sighing in mock exasperation. "But under no circumstance are you to let me do anything stupid," he begged, partly joking but also rather serious.  
  
The emotions swirling around in his heart and the thoughts in his head weren't conducive to a drinking atmosphere and knowing just how bad he got when he drank the stuff, he was worried that he'd make a mistake that he could never take back.  
  
Getting blind steaming drunk on tequila at the behest of Reita and Ruki's devious shenanigans and breaking Kai's snare drum when he fell on it was one thing. A wild night out with the only casualty being himself and an easily fixable drum set was nothing compared to fucking up and letting his true feelings become known to Uruha. He would take a million angry clones of Kai over the many possible outcomes and consequences of drunken confessions.  
  
Uruha smiled gently, staring at Aoi with warm, genuine eyes. "You know I'd never let you, Aoi. Though I do have one condition."  
  
Aoi barely heard the soft lilt Uruha responded with. He was too busy trying his best not to drown in Uruha's eyes, as pathetically romantic as that sounded to him. He was ready to kick himself or throw himself off the edge of a building - whichever came first.  
  
Aoi was wary. "What is it?"  
  
"Play your acoustic for me?" There was a hopefulness in Uruha's voice that was reflected in the burnt umber of his eyes. Aoi let out a shuddering breath and looked away, unable to say no.  
  
After a moment, Aoi pushed himself up off the couch and walked through to his bedroom. He was back in a matter of seconds with his black acoustic in tow, much to Uruha's delight. Aoi never understood Uruha's fascination with having him play his guitar but it always seemed to cheer Uruha up when he was in a self-deprecating mood so who was he to judge?  
  
Sitting down on the floor next to Uruha, he settled the guitar in his lap and carefully removed a pick from between the fretboard and strings. Cradling the neck in his left hand, Aoi accepted the shot of tequila that Uruha offered him and quickly knocked it back, hoping it would slow his rapid heart rate and still the confusion in his head for a time.  
  
Grimacing at the taste, Aoi looked up at Uruha through dark hair. "Any requests? I charge by the hour, just so you know."  
  
Uruha snorted. "Well, in that case, I hope you accept payment in the form of alcohol and I don't care, play whatever you want," he grinned, eyes lighting up.  
  
"Fair enough." Aoi shrugged casually, leaning back against the couch as he manoeuvred himself and the guitar into a more comfortable position.  
  
He plucked at the strings and let his hands slide over the frets, pulling long sighs and gentle trills from the guitar as he played the intro to one of the band's songs, _Dark Long Night_. Uruha smiled when he recognised it. It had been a long time since either of them had played it.  
  
But there was something about the song that resonated with Aoi. It felt fitting for him to play it for Uruha then. It spoke of thoughts and feelings that he was unable to voice. It hurt to know and understand but not fully accept. In his heart, he knew Uruha loved him but not like how he wanted.  
  
There was an irony in the song he played, in the lyrics Ruki had written to go with the melody.  
  
He doubted that Uruha would ever understand his deepest, darkest desires. He doubted that Uruha would ever accept them as anything more than friendship. So he stayed silent in his thoughts, immersed himself in the song he played and tried his best to hide the bitter smile that threatened to show on the surface in recognition of his situation.  
  
He knew that it wasn't Uruha's fault that he felt the way he did. Uruha had never done anything to warrant Aoi falling in love with him but somehow he blamed Uruha for always being too myopic to really see what was right in front of him. Why have empty relationships that always fell through, when he could have Aoi who was always loyal and always there?  
  
Though Aoi already knew the answer to the questions his mind posed.  
  
Upon finishing the song, Aoi let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding in and schooled his features into an impassive expression. "So, about that drink?"  
  
Uruha smiled carefully as he pressed the bottle into Aoi's hand.  
  
And in that moment, Aoi wished that he truly was blind because he didn't fail to notice how Uruha's brow creased and his jaw tensed when Aoi's fingers brushed against his knuckles. Despite how much he understood that Uruha was only trying to protect them from Aoi's destructive emotions, it still cut deep beneath the surface and left a mark on Aoi's heart.  
  
Yes, there was nothing quite like being in love with your best friend.


	3. I Just Couldn't Resist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life has been giving me lemons lately, so I've decided to start eating them. Good thing I like eating them, eh? Please don't judge me, I judge myself enough as it is. :(  
>    
>  Anyway, woohoo, the cliché continues! Hope you enjoy it! Feel free to drop a comment if you notice any mistakes. Grammarly has been trash lately, too. Maybe I should eat that as well? O:  
>    
>  See you in the next one, maybe? ,3

Uruha yawned and stretched, silently enjoying the satisfying sound of his joints popping in protest. It was well into the early hours of the morning and he was still nowhere near close to finishing the composition he was working on. He felt stagnated and tired, unable to figure out where he wanted the song to go or even how he wanted it to sound.  
  
His brain was beginning to trickle out of his ears and drip onto the floor in an imaginary puddle of goo. The idea he had for the song to start with had long since fizzled out. He felt constricted and unable to produce anything of merit.  
  
He huffed in frustration and figured that it probably best that he stop for the night. He had wanted to complete the song before their next band meeting but that seemed unlikely now, what with his brain consisting of near-dead mush and his mind elsewhere, unable to focus. He barely managed to stifle a yawn that threatened to crawl out of his mouth and rubbed at his face, in order to try to wake himself up a bit.  
  
Maybe he just needed a good night's sleep. Perhaps the answers to his problems would come to him the following day, along with a new perspective on everything.  
  
He checked the time on his watch and groaned. Three A.M. seemed like as a good a time as any to give up, it wasn't like he was going to progress further with the song anyhow. His eyes stung and his back hurt from hunching hours on end over his guitar. He really needed to work on his posture, he thought absently and scratched at his arm. He yawned once more and turned in his seat. His body almost protested at the unfamiliar movements, having sat in too awkward and stiff a position, for far too long.  
  
He quelled another yawn and sat there trying to ease the tension in his limbs as he looked around the quiet studio. Everyone else had gone home by now. He hadn't heard anyone bid him goodbye. Either he had been too caught up in his work to pay attention or they had left him be, not wanting to disturb him. It was more than likely a mixture of the two, he admitted to himself, feeling somewhat embarrassed. Sometimes his grasp on time slipped through his fingers whenever he was so engrossed in the songwriting process.  
  
He would get so caught up in his streaks of creativity for such long periods that it wasn't uncommon for people to forcefully have to drag and pry him away from the equipment before he starved to death or died from dehydration. If given a choice, he would have probably picked music over his body's nagging to have its needs be met.  
  
After pulling his headphones off and carefully placing his favourite guitar into its stand, he stood up from his seat and went about saving his meagre work to the hard drive of the computer he was using. He made sure to burn a physical copy, too, of the progress he'd made, just in case anything bad were to happen. The band's vocalist had a habit of being clumsy, Ruki had already killed two MacBook Pros in the space of a year due to a coffee mishap and a dog-related incident. Who knew that Chihuahuas could hold so much piss?  
  
Come to think of it, he was sure that he vaguely remembered seeing Ruki with a small bottle of Orangina earlier on that day, standing next to the mixing console. The singer always did like to play it a little recklessly. He always needed something to rebel against; loved to push boundaries and tread the grey area before things delved off into territories of a more dangerous nature. He may have been a risk taker but he wasn't stupid. Occasionally dumb, yes, but certainly not stupid.  
  
It looked like he would need to have words with him the next time he saw their firebrand of a front-man. Then again, maybe if he just told the vivacious little shit that he could drink whenever, wherever he wanted the fun would be sucked right out of it for him and he'd just go back to drinking and smoking outside of the building. Reverse psychology, or whatever it was called.  
  
Now that he thought about Ruki, it was a bit too glaring that he, himself, could stand to be a little less cautious in some areas of his life.  
  
Not that being guarded was a bad thing. Well, not entirely.  
  
His mother had always told him that one could never be too careful. But sometimes he felt that he took her words a little too much to heart, especially when it came to his infatuation with Aoi. Maybe he could loosen up a little—less so while he was drunk, more so while he was sober—and take a few risks. Perhaps break a few rules, too while he was at it.  
  
Though nothing too serious that would get him into trouble, he hoped.  
  
Maybe he could take a leaf out of Ruki's book; the currently-auburn haired vocalist used to be a hellion when he was a teenager but over the years he had matured and, while still the effervescent personality he was and always would be, he had found safer ways to bend the rules and rebel.  
  
Orangina in the studio, swearing and smoking, owning a pet that wasn't allowed in his apartment as per his landlord's instructions, dying his hair a different shade every month, for instance, were all another way for him to mess with the establishment—or as Ruki liked to put it, " _Fucking with the man._ "  
  
A fond smile tugged at Uruha’s mouth and he shook his head, Ruki's tenacity was what got them to this point. Without him, the band would have surely failed.  
  
There was no one quite like Ruki. They all loved him dearly, he was like their little brother, even if he was a bit obstinate at times. He was a true friend to them all. Always bluntly honest but also gentle and considerate. For all the rebellion in him, he was fiercely loyal to them and the band. He was a contradiction, for sure. But they accepted him in all his misfit glory and he did the same for them.  
  
The five of them were a tight-knit group of friends, they had to be in such a harsh industry. The music business was full of pitfalls and it took an astute person to navigate it properly. Things were hard for them starting out and still were now that they had, apparently, made it. Years of honing and refining their technique and sound had created bonds that would last a lifetime if allowed to continue to prosper.  
  
Though Uruha felt that at least one of those bonds was eventually going to break as the days continued to roll by with such swiftness. The more he tried to hold onto Aoi while keeping him at a distance, the more Aoi slipped through his fingers like water. He feared that it would continue on until either something snapped inside of him or Aoi got fed up with how Uruha was treating him.  
  
Uruha knew more than most that Aoi needed to be needed by people, whether as a friend or something more. Aoi had told him as much on one of the band's infrequent pub crawls, in some dive bar where the floor had been sticky and the music too loud and Aoi had been a little bit more than drunk.  
  
The computer whirred one final time and signalled that it had finished its task. After ejecting the freshly burned disc, he slid it into a CD case and slipped it into his bag, then went about turning off the appliances he had been using.  
  
He made sure to tidy up all the cables and put away the effect pedals he had chosen to use for the song he'd been composing. The last thing any of the band needed was for one of them to come into the studio the next morning and trip over a bunch of stuff and land their arse in a hospital bed because he had been too lazy to put his equipment away.  
  
Once finished, he gathered up his belongings and cast one final look at the area he had been working in to make sure that he hadn't left anything of importance behind, before he turned around and stopped abruptly in surprise.  
  
"Aoi?" he gasped, shocked at the presence of his fellow guitarist leaning against the doorjamb. Tilting his head in confusion, he added, "What are you doing here?"  
  
Because really, why in the hell would their second guitarist be standing there at a little past three in the morning?  
  
"I came to bring you some food. I figured you probably haven't eaten since lunch," Aoi replied, rubbing at his neck with his free hand as an almost sheepish smile found its way onto his face. He let his eyes sweep over Uruha's body, assessing him, before glancing around the small studio. "But I can see that you're in the middle of leaving so..."  
  
Uruha's stomach grumbled loudly and he blushed, slightly embarrassed. Come to think of it, when did he last eat? He couldn't quite recall. The day had flown by while he had pottered about and pondered on what sounded good here and how the next phrase should go and what of the solo that the song would surely have?  
  
So many questions his mind had thrown at him and in between all that, there had been Ruki too, with his own questions for Uruha. "What kind of song? How about these lyrics, do you think they'd work? The next band meeting is gonna be long, huh? When will you be finished? You should bring it along with you when you're done; if you're done in time."  
  
And then Ruki had finished pestering him and was gone in an instant, the only sign of him ever having been there was the lingering scent of BVLGARI cologne and the faded smell of cigarette smoke on clothing.  
  
After that Uruha had suddenly found himself unsure of exactly what kind of song he was making, all his creativity had seemingly vanished along with the pint-sized vocalist. And that was how Uruha stayed all afternoon until now that was.  
  
Here he was standing in front of Aoi once more, feeling a little off put by just how well Aoi knew him. "I-I was too busy trying to nail the harmony to even think about eating. But if the offer's still there, I wouldn't mind some free food."  
  
Aoi grinned, holding the door open for Uruha. "For you? I think I can make an exception," he said, falling into step beside Uruha and offering him the bag in his hand.  
  
"Aw, sweet. My favourite," Uruha teased as he rummaged through the contents, spying his favourite type of bento along with an energy drink.  
  
Snagging the beverage, he popped the cap and took a long sip. He hadn't realised how thirsty he had been. Time in the studio did that to him, basic needs went out the window when it came to making music.  
  
He looked down at Aoi and he smiled at the sight of him. His dark hair was tied up in a messy bun and his eyes still had the smudged remains of kohl around them from a photo shoot he had earlier on in the day. He was dressed casually in loose jeans and a flowery shirt over a black tank-top. Uruha laughed to himself. Aoi looked kind of bohemian, almost reminiscent of his young surfer boy days.  
  
All in all, he couldn't help but think that Aoi looked cute lost in his thoughts.  
  
That being said, it was obvious to Uruha how Aoi seemed tired and lacking the usual carefree attitude he was always used to. It was as if Aoi had the weight of the world on his shoulders and oh, how Uruha wished he could help bear the brunt of whatever that load was.  
  
Before he realised what he was doing, he had placed a soft kiss to Aoi's cheek as they walked beside each other. "Thank you," he said in earnest.  
  
Aoi's eyes widened a fraction, clearly startled out of his musings, before narrowing and Uruha immediately felt stupid. So much for taking risks, that was out of the question from now on.  
  
He hadn't meant to make Aoi feel uncomfortable. Sometimes it was just so hard trying to keep his desire in check and with the way Aoi looked in that moment, he had just wanted to let him know that he was there for him, that he was thankful for Aoi and his thoughtfulness.  
  
Who was he kidding? He just... wanted him.  
  
A pink tinge crept up Aoi's neck and he stuttered, embarrassed by Uruha's actions. "Ah, i-it was nothing, Uru, r-really. You would have done the same if the tables were turned," Aoi replied with a flushed face. His words were humble and free of ill intent but still, the way he was quick to wave off Uruha's affection had Uruha cringing and trying to ignore and force down the bitter sting of rejection.  
  
As they continued walking to the end of the hall, everything felt extremely awkward between them then. The corridor was thick with tension and the static of things left unsaid. Uruha had a permanent blush of embarrassment plastered to his face and Aoi kept looking at him, giving him some rather confused side-eye but otherwise said nothing.  
  
_Great_ , he'd royally fucked up, hadn't he?  
  
But before Uruha could think anymore of it, Aoi interrupted his soon to be inner angry-at-himself monologue by grabbing Uruha's hand in his. Staring up at Uruha with urging eyes, he spoke in low tones, voice soft, and seemed almost timid in his mannerisms. "Will you come with me? I've got something to show you."  
  
Thoughts completely eradicated, Uruha floundered, confused, and almost tripped over his feet as Aoi tugged on his hand a little harder, more insistent this time. Uruha felt flustered, his mind was a mess. He wasn't sure if it was because of Aoi's not-so-subtle rejection or the way Aoi's rough hand fit in his but his heart was racing loudly in his ears, threatening to burst through his rib cage.  
  
He fought to keep calm as Aoi dragged him along without a word. And Uruha let him, not able to do much more than that.  
  
It wasn't long before they reached Aoi's car and as Uruha was about to protest and tell him that he'd come by way of his own car, Aoi was quick to interject. "Just leave it here, it's not like it's going to drive off by itself."  
  
Okay, Aoi had a fair point. But still...  
  
Uruha groaned and tried to explain how he'd rather just go home, have a nice warm shower and head straight to bed. He wasn't about to tell Aoi that, really, he just wanted to go home and mope in the relative safety of his apartment over his faux pas induced anxiety. However Aoi was more than convincing and so he relented, unable to say no to Aoi's expectant gaze and dorky smile.  
  
He waited patiently for Aoi to unlock the car before slipping into the passenger's side. Settling into his seat, he turned to face Aoi sitting adjacent to him.  
  
"So," he started, trying to keep his voice steady. "What is it that you wanted to show me?"  
  
Aoi’s smile was secretive and he refused to give up their intended destination. Instead, his answer was deliberately vague. "You'll see when we get there."  
  
Sometimes Aoi’s need to remain mysterious was infuriating.  
  
Rolling his eyes, Uruha snorted derisively and sat back in his seat, watching as Aoi manoeuvred the car through the parking facility with skilful ease and out onto the strangely quiet streets of central Tokyo. The quiet purr of the car's engine and the gentle sound of classical music that played on the radio had Uruha zoning out, almost hypnotised by vibrations of his head resting against the passenger's side window. In his tired state, he was verging on the precipice of falling asleep.  
  
A peaceful lull came over the inside of the car as they were each caught up in their own thoughts. With only a vague awareness, Uruha occasionally felt Aoi’s eyes on him whenever Aoi glanced between him and the road, as if he wanted to say something but inevitably decided against it each time. As if he didn't want to break the spell between them or pull Uruha from his quiet reverie.  
  
Eventually, in what seemed like no time at all, they were nearing the city limits and as the buildings began to fall away with every mile they drove, the night sky was revealed to them in its unadulterated state.  
  
Uruha wasn't sure how long it had been since they left the last almost endless row street lights behind. He'd barely focused at all throughout the journey, hadn't paid much attention to the passing blur of neon nor the concrete dwellings of salarymen and their families, but soon the sound of Aoi slowing the car down and pulling over onto the hard shoulder at the side of the road broke Uruha from the silence in his head.  
  
The car ticked over for a few seconds before Aoi cut the engine completely along with the sound of the radio. He turned to Uruha after a long moment and spoke in a voice just louder than a whisper. "I come here when I need to think, or when I can't find the right phrases for a song."  
  
Aoi flicked the small overhead interior light on before exiting the car. Confused, Uruha mimicked his actions. He stepped out of the car and tried his best to stretch the lethargy from his muscles. Car rides always had a habit of making him tired. Back when he was a child, his mother and father had sometimes resorted to driving him around the neighbourhood on nights when they couldn't get him to settle. Some things never changed it seemed.  
  
Looking around, he squinted in the darkness. It seemed like they were in the middle of nowhere. It made him glad for the little amount of light that Aoi had afforded them. As his eyes adjusted he could just make out the outline of a large weeping willow tree surrounded by picnic benches and designated barbecue areas. The scent of sweet meadow flowers filled the still night air and he could hear the sound of a stream bubbling away happily at the bottom of a shallow incline.  
  
The smells and sounds were so familiar to him but he wasn't sure quite why that was.  
  
He turned on the spot and concluded his search of the immediate area, noting that they were parked in a small, makeshift car park that was laid mostly to gravel and tufts of grass. It was set just off the main road but as it was in a slightly secluded spot, it would have been hard to find for anyone that didn't know the area well enough.  
  
It took him a minute or two but he finally realised where they were.  
  
Turning toward Aoi, Uruha smiled and stared at him with wide, pleasantly surprised eyes. Aoi was lying on the hood of his car, leaning back against the windshield as if he owned the world. Uruha blushed at the way Aoi's eyes followed his movements closely like someone would their partner and allowed himself to indulge for a second in the small smile that played on Aoi's lips. It almost felt like that smile was just for him, and oh, how he looked almost at peace.  
  
He sighed and forced himself to let the thought go. It wasn't real and that look, that smile, wasn't meant for him. For all his daydreaming, it only caused the ache in his chest to throb dully behind his ribcage. Why did he do this to himself? Why did he hurt himself like this?  
  
"We had a barbecue here a few years ago," Uruha whispered, trying to keep the melancholy from his voice as he made his way over to the car.  
  
Aoi nodded slowly, staring up at the stars. "Reita kept pestering Kai while they cooked the food and Ruki sat beneath that tree the whole time," he reminisced with fondness. "You fell in the stream and pulled me in with you because I laughed at you."  
  
Uruha chuckled at the memory. "Sorry, at the time, I just couldn't resist wiping that smug smirk off your face." He would never admit that that wasn't the sole reason he decided that Aoi deserved to get soaked.  
  
Patting the space beside him, Aoi motioned for Uruha to join him. Without a second's thought, Uruha hopped up onto the hood and lay down next to him.  
  
Aoi stared at him silently for a few minutes, unnerving Uruha greatly, before turning to look up at the night sky once more. Aoi was giving him time to process his thoughts as if he knew that Uruha had something on his mind. He felt the urge to lean over and kiss Aoi breathless but he quelled it along with any other inappropriate thoughts he was having—he’d done enough damage as it was.  
  
Leaning back, he gazed up at the vast moth-eaten blanket before him. The stars twinkled as they shone down upon them.  
  
Uruha smiled, he wasn't one for romance and tragic metaphors but the stars had him thinking that maybe he and Aoi were like two comets destined to never cross each other's path. It was ironic just how brightly he shone for Aoi yet he never seemed to notice. Uruha would willingly be the light that Aoi needed on the days when Aoi felt smothered by the dark moods he had a tendency to wallow in from time to time.  
  
He was like a lost planet, following Aoi in the wake of his gravitational pull. Only Aoi never seemed to understand just quite why Uruha always stood that little bit closer to him than he did the rest of the band. Or why Uruha always trailed after him when Aoi was in a mood for mischief and trouble.  
  
Yes, Uruha would travel the ends of the earth and universe for him, if only Aoi wanted him to. It was pathetic just how far Uruha would willingly go, just how much he would do, for Aoi, even if he never uttered a word.  
  
Aoi was bright and bold, he shifted and changed so fluidly, not unlike the surface of the sun. It was sad that Uruha's world revolved around Aoi but it couldn't be helped. Aoi was warm and gentle but had a passion for life, love and music that rivalled and potentially burned hotter than the sun. Even his touch set Uruha's skin ablaze and his smile alone sent chain reactions coursing through Uruha's insides.  
  
As much as it made him cringe to think, Uruha's day was never as bright without Aoi. And on nights when Uruha couldn't sleep, Aoi was always there on the phone, or by his side, soothing him like a night light or a lullaby and helping him through the loneliness.  
  
Just like the stars were muses to many a poet, Aoi was the muse behind Uruha's happiness and the dizzying riffs or gentle melodies that he created. Too many times had he caught himself making songs with only Aoi in mind. Too many times had a bad day turned around with just the sound of Aoi's laughter. Too many times had Aoi saved him on days that he reckoned he should never have been saved.  
  
But Uruha couldn't tell him any of this. He felt ashamed of his thoughts, he felt ashamed in what he felt for Aoi. Their friendship was pure and chaste, Uruha's feelings, however, were not.  
  
There he was, lying to Aoi as he lay beside him, thinking about how he wished that he could map the constellations of Aoi's freckles, give them names, and trace the outline of his kohl smudged eyes as they stared at him like black holes in the fabric of space; wishing upon handfuls of stars so that just once he could be Aoi's ether when Aoi looked burnt out and weary under the weight of the universe.  
  
But he couldn't, would never, tell Aoi any of it, lest he destroyed their already fragile friendship. He couldn't risk losing Aoi, or the band. There was no way he would ever wager the band and Aoi against a deep-seated desire.  
  
It just wasn't worth the fistful of stars that he tried to grasp at.


	4. Everything... Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm always worried that Aoi and Uruha sound the same when I write their respective chapters. In my head they have different voices/personalities but when I read over everything as I edit, it all begins to sound the same.  
>    
>  I hope that's just my fears (and the fact that I edit after a few days of not looking at the fic) and not an actual reality. Eep.  
>    
>  Anyway, enough of my worrying! Onto the chapter! Feel free to drop some feedback down in the comments, it all helps. ♥

The car ride was filled with a palpable silence, for Aoi at least. The soft classical music playing on the radio did nothing to fill the void between them. Uruha was far off in his thoughts, blissfully unaware of the storm of emotions brewing inside Aoi.  
  
Aoi, on the other hand, found himself torn between blurting out meaningless chatter just to occupy himself so that he didn't have to think about any of the confusing, frustrated questions swirling around in his head, and letting Uruha be alone.  
  
He settled upon the latter, unable to force himself to disturb Uruha from his serene, almost sleepy state. He had a peaceful look on his face for the first time that night since Aoi had shown up at the studio after receiving a text message from a worried Ruki.  
  
_"Is Uru okay? I left him in the studio a little after eleven o'clock. I had to go home and feed Koron but he never heard me say goodbye. I tried to send him a text but he never responded to that either."_  
  
Aoi frowned when he'd read the message and had tried to get in contact with Uruha, too. However, the call was cut short by a dial tone followed by it going to voicemail, indicating that Uruha's phone was off and that he couldn't be reached.  
  
After making a quick stop at a konbini to get some food for him just in case he was hungry, Aoi had rushed over to the studio, nearly hitting every red light on the way there, to make sure that Uruha wasn't planning on staying the night there and to see if he needed to talk. It wasn't often that Ruki worried about their lead guitarist. He, hell, everyone, knew full well that Uruha was always slow, thorough, and very deliberate when it came to producing music.  
  
So if Ruki felt the need to message Aoi about him, then something was definitely up and Ruki had noticed it.  
  
He was glad Uruha seemed okay physically. He looked all right, aside from dull eyes that were showcasing tiredness and strain from too many hours bent over a guitar or squinting at his MacBook under the dim studio lighting. He seemed mentally sound, too. So what had Ruki wondering if Uruha was okay?  
  
He worried his lip as he gripped the steering wheel and glanced over at Uruha in the passenger seat.  
  
Overworking himself? Nah, that wouldn't be it. Uruha always overworked himself, it wasn't a new thing. Perhaps he was worried over something? He seemed to be on edge an awful lot lately, Aoi had noted. Perhaps that was it. Then again, maybe Uruha just needed an escape?  
  
It could get claustrophobic cooped up inside the studio for far too long. Aoi always found he needed to get out after a while and just do something or go somewhere completely different. It just so happened that Uruha's actions earlier in the hallway had triggered an inward crisis in Aoi that required him needing time to breathe and process.  
  
So, perhaps stupidly, Aoi thought it best to drag Uruha along with him to his special place. Maybe Uruha would appreciate it. Maybe Uruha would figure out whatever it was he was going through. Maybe it would allow them time to think and be free of the impending stressful time constraints, artwork deadlines and songwriting processes for just a little while.  
  
Though now that Aoi thought about it, he was in a small space with the object of his affections and his mind was working overtime trying to understand what Uruha's kiss had meant. Perhaps his heart was seeing things that weren't really there and his brain was reading too much into it but he could have sworn that Uruha had looked almost... hurt... at the way he had reacted, retracted his body away from Uruha.  
  
He grimaced and chided himself. _Ugh_ , he sounded like one of those cliched characters out of a fucking manga that was in love and so very unrequited. Obviously, his desires were getting the better of him and he needed to stop being an idiot.  
  
That being said, it was unfair how Uruha could bestow affection upon people like it was nothing. How he could give away chaste kisses and warm hugs freely like they meant nothing to him when they always meant so much to Aoi.  
  
The kiss Uruha had pressed to his cheek had come as a surprise. It was a rare occurrence and it had Aoi on tenterhooks. He realised that it was just Uruha's way of thanking him and that Uruha hadn't meant any harm by it but that didn't mean that it wasn't an act free of cruelty, albeit an unknown one to Uruha, which left Aoi reeling.  
  
Uruha had no idea just how deep Aoi's feelings for him ran, so it was only natural that Uruha didn't notice just how much his actions affected Aoi. He knew it was silly but sometimes it was almost too hard to keep his emotions in check, to keep his feelings concealed.  
  
It was getting harder to maintain an outwardly calm appearance that soaked up everything that Uruha had to offer when on the inside Aoi was an absolute mess. He honestly wasn't sure how much longer he could go on pretending that everything was normal and right in the world when the person he wanted to be with didn't want him, didn't even know that he existed in any other form than as friends.  
  
He pressed his foot down in annoyance, forcing himself to focus on the road ahead as the car reacted to his movements. Soon enough they were driving along countryside-esque roads, through small towns, until Aoi finally came across the familiar sight of the turn off for the picnic area that he was so fond of coming to. He wasn't sure what he loved about this place but it had a calming effect on him that he couldn't quite replicate anywhere else.  
  
Tokyo was brimming with noise and neon; it was all twenty-four-hour convenience stores and hectic schedules, busybodies and bullshit working hours. Sometimes, he wondered if it was all worth it. Out here, under the stars, amongst the calming sound of water and the rustle of nearby grass fields in the soft breeze, he felt at home.  
  
For a single moment, time stopped and rewound, and he was back in Mie; just a dumb teenager staring up at the sky and thinking that he would be immortal like the stars someday.  
  
Once upon a time, there was a version of himself that craved the brilliant lights that illuminated glistening skin that demanded worship under the cover of dark shadows. Once upon a time, he was a naive boy reaching for the stars and grabbing onto life with both hands.  
  
Nowadays, he was just a cowardly man too scared to make a decision, or make a move, because he didn't know what the outcome might be. Sometimes he wished he still had that brazen courage and fire in his belly, wished that he still had the guts to just dive in head first, not caring if he might drown.  
  
He parked up and shut the engine off. The radio died and silence filled the space between them. He sat there for a second with his eyes shut and let out a quiet stream of air in a bid to calm his nerves. After a quick explanation to Uruha of why they were in the middle of nowhere, pretty much, he pressed the overhead light on and made a move to exit the car.  
  
He shut the driver's side door behind him and decided to recline upon the front of the vehicle. After hopping up onto the hood, he sighed tiredly and watched Uruha for a long moment as he stretched and took in their surroundings. He couldn't help but admire Uruha in the yellow glow of the light from the car. The way Uruha's shirt rode up to expose pale skin had Aoi simultaneously cursing himself out and wishing he could touch and map Uruha's body.  
  
He tore his eyes away from the sight of his friend and almost growled in frustration at his inability to think normally about Uruha. He took a calming breath in and held it for a few seconds before letting it out. _Thinking this way isn't helping anyone_ , he groaned to himself and tried to put his indecent thoughts aside.  
  
He patted the spot beside him, motioning for Uruha to join him before he finally turned away completely to gaze up at the night sky. The stars looked so lonely and still they continued shining, their light dancing upon the jet coloured sky. Sometimes he called himself the World's Star out of fake arrogance born from insecurity and crippling fear, a crippling need, to be something more than who he was and to place a mark on the world that would be remembered for aeons.  
  
Mostly... he just wanted Uruha to look at him the way that people looked at the stars; with wonder in their eyes and complete unadulterated awe. Even more than that, he just wanted to make a mark on Uruha's heart.  
  
He smiled when Uruha reminded him of the barbecue they had there years ago. Remembering when things had been a simpler time for them back then when he wasn't so caught up in and enraptured by Uruha that he could act on his idiocy with the other without worrying if he'd end up with a raging hard-on.  
  
Looking back on it now, however, the part he recalled most vividly was the moment when he'd been pulled into the water. They'd landed in a pile of limbs, Aoi almost on top of him. Their wet clothes had clung to their frames, plastered to them like a second skin in the cool water.  
  
He could remember how Uruha had scowled and pushed at his shoulder, embarrassed for falling over, for being laughed at. He remembered just how Uruha had struggled to keep that look in place, how it faltered and fell away and he had smiled brightly. Uruha in that moment, soaking wet, was the most precious thing Aoi had ever laid eyes on.  
  
How he had managed to resist smashing his mouth to Uruha's and how he'd stopped himself from pushing Uruha's shirt up to see just how far the embarrassed blush on Uruha's face had spread, he just didn't know. Though he did give his younger self credit for being able to hold back. Nowadays he seemed to be finding it harder and harder to be able to ignore temptation.  
  
For a time their conversation was tinged with a fondness as they reminisced about the past. It had Aoi wanting to go back to the start. To when they first met. Perhaps if given the chance, he would have done things differently and maybe then he wouldn't be in the mess he was currently in. Then again, if given the chance, it could have turned out a lot worse than it currently was.  
  
Aoi sighed quietly and frowned.  
  
He had brought them here to help them relax because it was now clear from the way Uruha had been working himself to the bone, that he had needed some downtime. So far, for Uruha at least, it seemed to be working. He looked peaceful and at ease as he let his mind wander to some far off place that Aoi would never hope to reach.  
  
Sometimes he wished he had the ability to read minds. Despite the ugliness that people held behind their barriers, despite the sickness they held in their hearts and heads, Aoi figured that he could take all that and more if only he could see into Uruha's darkest parts and shine a light of understanding onto them. But he wasn't a mind reader and all his wishes fell on deaf ears. If only someone had told him sooner that wishes were just security blankets for innocent children that had yet to realise there was no one listening.  
  
With bitter amusement, Aoi realised that his small wish for some quiet repose, free from thoughts of Uruha, wouldn't be granted anytime soon. If anything lying there next to Uruha, with their shoulders touching and their hands brushing together occasionally, only proved to instil within Aoi a strong urge to lean over and find out just how soft Uruha's lips really were.  
  
He sighed and shook his head at the thought, and suppressed the notion to act on his deepest desire. _If only_.  
  
"Hey, are you okay?" Uruha's soft timbre broke the quiet atmosphere around them as he shifted beside Aoi and sat up, leaning back slightly to peer at him.  
  
Aoi smiled lazily and waved his hand in what he hoped to be a show of nonchalance. "Yeah, just thinking about stuff," he replied as casually as he could.  
  
Uruha frowned. "Like?"  
  
"Nothing..." Aoi trailed off, biting his lip in contemplation. What was there to say? What was he even thinking about aside from Uruha? He was so unsure about... "Everything."  
  
Uruha smiled softly as he watched Aoi childishly grab at the stars as if to catch them. "You're always so vague, Aoi. You know you can tell me anything, right? I wouldn't judge you for it."  
  
Uruha sounded so sincere, so genuinely interested in wanting to know what was troubling him in order to try to help him. If only Uruha knew exactly what Aoi wanted to do to him, what he wanted from Uruha. Aoi snorted and rolled his eyes.  
  
_Sure, you wouldn't_ , he thought with mirthless humour as he pushed himself to sit up next to Uruha to look at him fully. "I'm nearly one hundred percent sure that you would judge the fuck out of me if I told you, Uru," he finally responded with a shrug.  
  
"I'm serious, Aoi." Uruha's voice almost verged on a plea. "I wouldn't. You know me by now, surely not? What if I pinkie promise not to judge you?"  
  
Uruha smiled down at him, innocent and sweet, as he held out his right little finger and waited for Aoi to return the action and seal the deal. He felt bad, Uruha clearly wanted to help. He sighed and rolled his eyes once more and lifted his hand, unable to leave Uruha hanging.  
  
"I swear I'm only going to indulge you this once," he responded, despite them both knowing how absurd it was that they were two grown men swearing a promise.  
  
Uruha laughed as he stared at Aoi with sincere, brown eyes. "And I swear that I will not judge you ever, no matter what you tell me."  
  
His skin prickled under Uruha's intense gaze. In a bid to ease his nerves, Aoi found himself breaking their contact in favour of focusing on picking and prodding at a small hole in the leg of his pants. While pulling at the frayed material gently, he was silent in his thoughts, gathering them up much like the fabric in his hands before finally turning to look up at Uruha once more and replying.  
  
"I just feel like I have so much going on inside my head and that I have no way to express it. I feel kinda crazy," Aoi said, voice barely above a whisper.  
  
It wasn't quite a lie if he was honest. He resisted the urge to laugh at that word. Honesty... What was that nowadays anyway? And what was another lie or half-truth to add to the almost endless list already?  
  
"Do you ever get that feeling, like there's a storm inside you and eventually it'll spill out and wreck everything you've built up?" he asked.  
  
Uruha frowned as he processed Aoi's words, trying to decipher what Aoi was getting at, before nodding with certainty and waiting for him to continue.  
  
"I'm so scared that I'm going to ruin everything, Uru. That I'm just gonna fuck shit up for everyone," he whispered, trying his best to not let his voice crack.  
  
"I get that more than you know," Uruha replied, smiling in tender understanding. "But you won't. I promise you, you could never fuck anything up. I know it's hard but you should just tell Masako how you feel. She'll understand, she'll listen."  
  
Aoi grimaced at the mention of his on-and-off-again girlfriend. She helped Aoi pass the time and alleviate his stress and tension in ways that didn't involve talking and while Aoi hated himself for using her like that, he sometimes got the feeling that on some deeper level she knew, perhaps even understood, that he had his heart set on someone else.  
  
Still, that wasn't to say he didn't care about her. What he lacked in real love, he certainly made up for in other ways, not that she seemed to complain. In fact, she seemed to be mostly okay with their rather strange arrangement, or rather relationship if it could be called that. Every so often he would buy her something nice, expensive even, to show his appreciation for her.  
  
Though he knew deep down that what he was giving her didn't match up to what she gave him in return. He knew that she loved him deeply and that what she wanted most from him was a declaration of his feelings—his love—not some poxy material gift.  
  
Of course, sometimes it wasn't always so simple.  
  
Sometimes Aoi got so frustrated with his feelings and sometimes Masako got angry at the situation and their arguments would spiral out of control because they both had tempers and could both be a little too emotionally volatile, they could both be a little too expressive in their anger. They would end up breaking up only to wind up having drunk sex a few days or weeks down the line. The same could be said for their making up, it was always so expressive and rough, enjoyable even.  
  
But for the majority of their time together, it was plain sailing on peaceful seas.  
  
Sighing, he pushed thoughts of her away and grinned sheepishly, feeling guilty about lying to Uruha so easily and feeling guilty for using Masako as a scapegoat. "Yeah, I guess you're right. Since when did you get to be so sagely, anyway?" he teased in response.  
  
The laugh that Uruha let out was a bitter one and Aoi couldn't help but notice the sadness that tinged his soft, dark eyes. "Unmutual love and many a sour relationship can do that to you, don't you know?" Uruha told him in a tone that was matter-of-fact and devoid of the usually quiet, lilting quality.  
  
Aoi hummed in reply, shaking his head at the irony of Uruha's words. How he desperately wanted to be able to say that he couldn't relate but that wasn't the case. From the deep longing that settled in his stomach to the stabbing pang of pain that he contended with daily; he understood it all too well.  
  
Instead, he settled on titling his head to the side in a guise of naivety and hoped it masked his true feelings and replied in a joking manner, voice laced with dramatic sarcasm. "No, I didn't know that. Tell me it isn't so."  
  
Uruha snorted and failed to hide a smile behind his hand, while Aoi sighed quietly and tried to not think about how that smile was killing him slowly. It was almost painful to see Uruha smile like that at him.  
  
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry you guys are having problems," Uruha replied with complete sincerity.  
  
Aoi merely shrugged and nodded, intent on changing the topic. "So... what's up with you? Based on the text Ruki sent me, I assume that you're struggling with something, 'ruha."  
  
Uruha groaned loudly and shrugged. "I don't know. Mostly I feel like I'm limited to composing crap at the moment. Is there a musician's version of writer's block? If there is, I think I have it," he complained, sounding almost forlorn.  
  
Aoi nodded. He knew how that felt, too. "Maybe there's something on your mind that's causing it?" he probed.  
  
Biting his lip, Uruha sat there staring at the hole in Aoi's pants.  
  
"I think I love—" He began, words a near-whisper, but stopped himself. Uruha seemed almost shocked as if he had realised something. "I loved him."  
  
As much as the thought of Uruha loving someone that wasn't him stung, he hated to see Uruha sad, so he did the only thing he could and tugged Uruha over to lie beside him in a gentle embrace.  
  
"If he couldn't understand you or see that you loved him, he didn't deserve you, Uru," Aoi said, sympathetic to Uruha's plight as he tried to comfort him as best he could.  
  
Uruha shrugged and pulled away from Aoi slightly. "It's okay, I'm kind of done with dating arseholes. For the moment, anyway," he joked, before lying back down.  
  
"Hey, seeing as we have the day off, if you want, we could go back to my place and go over that work in progress. See if we can come up with the remainder of it, maybe?" Aoi suggested as he threaded a hand through Uruha's hair in a soothing motion.  
  
He felt Uruha nod against his shoulder. "Sure, that sounds like a good idea," he conceded.  
  
Silence descended upon them as they retreated into themselves once more, quiet and relaxed, looking toward the horizon as daylight crawled closer and midnight faded in favour of muted pink and gold hues that grew brighter with every minute that ticked by.  
  
Soon enough, the tranquil picnic area came to life. Birds chirped and squawked and the quiet road soon grew busier as people began their morning commute to work.  
  
Aoi shifted in his spot, turning to look at Uruha. "We should probably head home, getting stuck in traffic isn't my idea of fun," he said and stifled a yawn.  
  
Uruha grinned tiredly. "Yeah, I don't think that falling asleep on the hood of your car would be particularly comfortable," he replied, sliding off the car before stretching his limbs and easing his joints.  
  
With Uruha gone from his side, Aoi was torn between being able to breathe freely and wanting badly to pull Uruha close again and... He frowned as his mind began to wander once more. Thinking of Uruha in such a way did him no favours. On second thought, maybe distance was good. It served to give him room to think and ensured that he wouldn't do anything too stupid in Uruha's presence. He hoped anyway.  
  
Apparently, he'd been thinking too long, for Uruha waved a hand in front of his face while laughing. "Yo, Earth to Aoi."  
  
Aoi scowled slightly and slid off the bonnet. "Huh?"  
  
"Are you sure you're okay? You've been zoning out a lot," Uruha questioned, worry evident in the way that he stared at him with curious eyes.  
  
"I'm just tired, Uru," he lied.  
  
Uruha bit his lip, looking conflicted. It was obvious that he didn't believe Aoi. Nevertheless, he let it go with a quirk of an eyebrow and a light sigh. Whatever he was going to say was allowed to die before it was uttered, much to Aoi's relief.  
  
"Want me to drive?"  
  
"If you don't mind," Aoi said and slipped wordlessly into the passenger's side after pressing his car keys into Uruha's hand.  
  
Following suit, Uruha slid into the driver's seat and after getting situated, slipped the key into the ignition and started the car. The radio burst into life, a weather report telling them that bad weather was on its way before Aoi silenced it at Uruha's request.  
  
Aoi frowned. He already knew there was a storm on its way, it was only a matter of time before the calm was broken. He just hoped that when it hit, something could be salvaged because the thought of losing Uruha was something he didn't ever want to contend with.  
  
It wasn't an option.


	5. So Desperate For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the curious soul (and for anyone else) that's interested in what I listen to when I write this fic, I tried to make a playlist online but due to a lot of limitations, I couldn't include all the songs so I settled on making a .rar file instead. [Click here to download.](http://www.mediafire.com/file/8ty7zi8d95uanyz/HDWH.rar)  
>    
>  Sorry for the inconvenience. ;n; Anyway, hope you all enjoy the chapter! :3

Uruha awoke to the annoying sound of some cheesy pop song blaring from a phone. He groaned. His whole body ached. Wincing as he sat up, he gently rubbed at his neck in a bid to soothe the pain and tension gathered there. Sleeping on a couch for so long really wasn't the most conducive to a good rest.  
  
How long had he been asleep for? He looked around, blinking rather owlishly, and tried to get his bearings. Spying his phone, he picked it up to check the time. It was almost four o'clock. He'd slept so long.  
  
He was sitting on a couch with a simple guest blanket pooled around him. Curtains were drawn wide, allowing the late afternoon sun to stream into the living room. Papers were strewn all over the coffee table in front of him, while some had spilt onto the floor. Two stained cups half filled with the remnants of now-cold coffee, the leftovers of his konbini bento and an ashtray full of crushed cigarette filters occupied the rest of the space between all the sheets of music.  
  
Aoi's living room was a chaotic mess. It near perfectly resembled the inside of Uruha's head.  
  
Memories of the previous night flashed in front of his eyes. He cringed and hid his face in his hands. He had almost slipped up and told Aoi about his true feelings. He couldn't help it. Something about that moment had triggered something in him. Maybe it was the way Aoi was pulling at the threads of a hole in his trousers, watching as the hole got bigger the more he pulled. Perhaps it was the fact that he'd told Aoi to be honest with his girlfriend and Uruha's brain had urged him to listen to his own advice.  
  
Fortunately, Uruha had managed to swallow the words down and waited for the niggling voice in his head to dissipate. Luckily he was able to cover his near slip-up, telling Aoi that he instead had loved his previous partner. That was another lie to add to the pile. He'd lost count of how many he'd told. At this point, it was almost second nature to him and he hated how easy it was to twist words and prey on Aoi's trust.  
  
Friends didn't do that; they weren't meant to lie to their faces or abuse the fragile trust given to them by those closest to them.  
  
He didn't know how much longer he could continue to live with himself; the constant lies by omission and constant deceit was hard to stomach. At first, it was easy, but now... Now it was getting so much harder to be okay with it all.  
  
But at least he had given an outlet to _some_ of the turbulent emotions that had stubbornly taken up residence in his head and remained rooted in his heart. Now that they were on paper, he felt like a weight had lifted, even if in reality it only accounted for a minute amount.  
  
Plus, now he had another song that he could take to their next band meeting.  
  
Though he wasn't sure if he was ready to face that hurdle just yet. Handing over music to the band usually involved questions of a prying nature. And after that came the decision of whether it was good enough to be considered a part of the album.  
  
It all felt a little too personal and raw at that moment. Not to mention that he was worried that all the meaning behind the music and writing process might be lost. And that if the song was rejected... Well, that would hurt a little too much, hit a little too close to home.  
  
Maybe he just needed to start seeing the song for what it was—something that his job required of him—and not something he had poured his heart and soul into.  
  
Uruha let out a breath of air and rubbed at his temples. He could feel the onset of a stress-induced headache.  
  
Perhaps he could have a word to Ruki about it. Their vocalist was usually open to ideas and was always genuinely interested in where their inspiration came from; it helped him to write lyrics to the music they produced. Maybe it would work out in the end.  
  
However, that could wait for a bit. At that moment he had more pressing matters to attend to.  
  
One being that his mouth tasted like something had died in it. The stale taste of coffee and morning-now-afternoon breath was rather unpleasant to his senses. The other matter being that he smelled a little too ripe for his liking, he really needed a shower and a change of clothes.  
  
Thankfully, Aoi was a gracious host. He always had spare toothbrushes and the like lying around for just such an occasion. Occasions wherein his bandmates would end up staying over after their band related activities just so happened to bleed into impromptu booze-ups.  
  
Only this time it had been just the two of them. And instead of alcohol and idiocy, only coffee and sleep deprived eyes had been involved as they immersed themselves in a mixture of intense concentration and technical conversation.  
  
Together, they formulated the main body of the song with one of Aoi's spare electric guitars that Uruha was fond of soundwise. For the softer parts of the song, an acoustic guitar was used as a placeholder for the time being, at Uruha's insistence. After that, they fleshed the song out with a deep bass line and a heavy drumbeat and soon they had wondered how it would sound after recording and mixing took place.  
  
The end result was a rough-around-the-edges ballad that they were proud of.  
  
However, it was Uruha's song through and through. Aoi made sure of that when he told Uruha that he wouldn't take credit for something Uruha had started creating on his own. He had merely helped Uruha to pull out the things he wanted his guitar to say and helped him piece it together in a way that flowed almost without effort.  
  
The heart of it had been laid out on paper and they'd even recorded a demo, albeit a little sloppily in their tired state, using Aoi's home studio setup.  
  
The process had them feeling the tinge of sepia nostalgia harking back to their rookie days as a band trying to break into the music scene; where they huddled into a small sound booth and had as much time as their money could buy to record songs against the grainy background of a fresh stack of cassette tapes.  
  
The change of pace had felt nice though. Being able to work slowly allowed for imperfections and reworks of parts that didn't sound quite right. It allowed for their progress to follow a more natural, less manufactured, course.  
  
It was different to how they worked in the studio—fast and forced, stressed and constricted by time restraints—micromanaged to hell. Usually, they were interrupted by the constant buzz of phones asking when things would be done and how far along they were.  
  
This time though, the only interruptions to be heard had been the click of a kettle or the quiet rumble of their stomachs.  
  
It was therapeutic and almost freeing, even.  
  
For a moment in time, they mimicked their younger selves. It kind of had Uruha wishing that he was twenty once more and just meeting Aoi for the first time. Just so things might have been different. But that wasn't ever going to happen so he'd settled on letting the feeling of warmth radiate his entire core as he created something so intimate with Aoi.  
  
Uruha bit his lip, trying to stop the feeling of a dumb smile spreading and splitting his face apart.  
  
He felt grateful that Aoi had been kind enough to help by lending his own expertise as a rhythm guitarist and giving Uruha his honest opinion when prompted. Even suggesting certain chord progressions when Uruha couldn't figure out how he wanted something to sound.  
  
The light in Aoi's eyes had caused a smile to tug at Uruha's lips, one that had remained fixed in place the entire time they were working on the song.  
  
There was that warmth again, a heat that grew harder to ignore as time went on. It pooled in his stomach and threatened to pull him apart at the seams. Bubbling away under the surface, annoying and hard to forget much like Aoi in a sense.  
  
Uruha's gentle smile turned sad as he was reminded of how deep his feelings ran and how far he'd fallen for Aoi.  
  
The memory of Aoi lost in his element touched his heart and grasped at it firmly, it was almost hard to breathe. The way passion ebbed out of Aoi in everything that he did and the way Aoi had held his favourite guitar almost as if it were a lover, Uruha had almost felt jealous at the sight as he sat and watched carefully while playing one of Aoi's many spares.  
  
In some ways, he felt like that spare guitar, too. Left to the wayside to collect dust. Unnoticed, unused by its owner. Only Aoi didn't own him... Well, not quite, at least. While his heart belonged to Aoi, he would never claim ownership.  
  
Just like he wouldn't claim any form of ownership over the song they'd mostly created together.  
  
Damn the irony and damn Aoi. He would have laughed at himself and the situation but he wasn't in the mood for self-deprecating humour. The tension in his neck seemed to spread throughout his body and coiled in the pit of his stomach.  
  
Their conversation during the night previous had left him feeling tense too. He'd half expected an awkward silence to envelop them so that he would have been left to fumble through their interaction and conversation—unsure in everything.  
  
The car ride back was spent in silent contemplation as Uruha worried over whether the majority of his time with Aoi would be spent looking for the right words to say. Or that he'd end up stealing glances all the while fingering guitar strings and feeling his way over a fretboard just for some familiarity because the moments when they said nothing was when Uruha felt at his most vulnerable.  
  
He never knew where he stood, where to stand. Or if he was even in the way.  
  
Though none of those things had occurred. Instead, it was like falling into a rhythm, each never missing a beat.  
  
Surprisingly, when they'd toed off their shoes and grabbed their guitars (or in Uruha's case held onto it for dear life and a semblance of security), it was an easy transition from uncomfortable car silence to comfortable loquacity. When they were in their element nothing felt awkward. And after a while, it all fell away and faded out until all that was left was the music.  
  
It had been nice to truly not think about much else for a time.  
  
However, that was then and this was now. And his mouth was dry and he really needed to do something about his clothes. And his eyes stung, deprived of oxygen underneath the contact lenses he'd slept in. All in all, he was a mess in bad need of fixing.  
  
He finally got up and tried to tidy Aoi's living room a little, knowing that Aoi didn't like a messy apartment. He shuffled sheets of music into neat piles, sorting through them and arranging them in order while he lost himself in his thoughts.  
  
He and Aoi were different in many ways, especially when it came to making music. Aoi was productive and efficient. Uruha was the complete opposite. Uruha hoarded all of the things he created while Aoi deleted any unused tracks.  
  
It was weird that Aoi always allowed Uruha to take his time with everything. Aoi usually liked to get things done as fast as possible but never faltered in the quality of his work.  
  
Uruha supposed that even in their differences when it came to music, no matter how chaotic or methodical their respective creative processes were, if something was worth doing then it was worth doing right.  
  
Sometimes though, it surprised him how patient Aoi could be with him considering how emotional and irrational Aoi could get. He was prone to outbursts while Uruha was almost zen-like in all areas of life. Not that he faulted the other guitarist for it. In fact, it was one of the endearing qualities that drew Uruha to Aoi.  
  
Just like in every other aspect of Aoi's life, he was passionate in his feelings too.  
  
Once done with clearing up their mess, he found his way to the bathroom. He could hear noises coming from the kitchen. Aoi was talking to someone on the phone in hushed, hurried tones. It seemed like he was trying to keep the noise down in order to not wake him.  
  
_Too late for that_ , he grumbled to himself.  
  
Ever the thoughtful host, except for when it came to that damn ringtone.  
  
He really needed to get Aoi to swap that Kōda Kumi song for something a little more in keeping with their rock n' roll reputation. It was catchy... but was it really normal for an almost thirty-year-old man to enjoy such things?  
  
Then again, Aoi wasn't normal at all, was he?  
  
Uruha sniggered.  
  
_Definitely not_.  
  
Though, Aoi enjoying simple pop songs did have its positives. Sometimes Uruha would watch the way Aoi would dance to the upbeat tunes. Sometimes it was entertaining and hilarious, sometimes it was downright sexual the way he moved. Especially when he was on stage, showing off for the fans.  
  
Back when the band had started there had been much debate on which role each guitarist would assume. Looking back on it now, Aoi suited the role of rhythm guitarist without a doubt.  
  
Uruha bit his lip. Make that four things he had to attend to.  
  
By the time he'd gotten out the shower he felt dirtier than ever. While he'd managed to stem the flow of selfish desire, he hadn't quite managed to stop his mind from wandering into familiar vices.  
  
From the sounds of it, Aoi was still busy on the phone, oblivious to the sexual frustrations Uruha was dealing with on a regular basis.  
  
Holding his towel in place, he padded down the hall to the kitchen and pushed the door open. Upon entering, he tried hard not to feel embarrassed at the sight of Aoi.  
  
He was wearing loose pyjama pants and his toned torso was bare. His dark hair cascaded down his back. The muscles in Aoi's back tensed and relaxed, shifting under his tanned skin as he moved around the kitchen with a cigarette dangling from his mouth.  
  
Uruha drank in the sight before him and tried to steel himself from the thoughts of what it would be like to thread his fingers through silken hair and pull. _Fuck_ , this was so not helping his current state. He wanted the floor to swallow him up.  
  
He felt guilty for thinking such impure thoughts, more so after he had almost allowed himself to act on them in the shower. He was a horrible person. He needed to stop being so lecherous over his friend. It wasn't fair to either of them.  
  
At the sound of Uruha entering the kitchen, Aoi turned in surprise and stared at him, looking a little flustered, mouth wide open obviously about to say something to whoever it was on the phone. He closed his mouth and frowned before nodding his head at whatever was being said. He rolled his eyes a little in exasperation.  
  
"Are you okay?" Uruha asked, mindful of Aoi's phone conversation.  
  
Aoi cast him a wry glance and mouthed the words, "It's my mother."  
  
"Send her my love, won't you?" Uruha chirped brightly. He loved Aoi's mother, she was so caring and enthusiastic about her son being in a band. He wished his parents had been half as supportive of his life choices as Aoi's were. "Also, please ask her if she plans on bringing more of those delicious bentos she makes to the next gig she comes to."  
  
Aoi rolled his eyes and snorted. "No, kaasan, I'm not laughing at you"—Uruha could just make out a slightly affronted voice—"Kaasan... Yes, I know, uh huh. Maaa," he whined. "Stop for a second. Uru sends his love. Yeah, he's here, he says 'hi' and wants you to make him some lunch next time you come to a live."  
  
Aoi let out a laugh that piqued Uruha's curiosity, he unconsciously moved closer. "What is it? What did she say?"  
  
"Kaasan says she'll make you ten because she thinks you don't eat enough," Aoi relayed, and leaned over to pinch at Uruha's side as if to emphasise his mother's point. "And she says hi, and hopes that you're doing well."  
  
Uruha let out an undignified noise that was along the lines of squeak and swatted Aoi's hand away. He scowled at Aoi for almost making him drop his towel. That was a little too close for his liking so he stepped back, putting a small amount of distance between them.  
  
"I'm fine, thank you for asking, Shiroyama-san," Uruha answered and bowed out of polite habit, if a little tersely due to Aoi's childishness, despite her obviously not hearing or seeing his reply. "Hey, Aoi, is it okay if I borrow some clothes?"  
  
He knew Aoi would say yes but he felt it only right to ask first. Nodding, Aoi gave him a somewhat tight smile before going back to his conversation with his mother. After a moment, Uruha turned around and headed straight for the bedroom.  
  
An uneasy feeling came over him upon entering his friend's bedroom. He felt weird. This was where Aoi slept. With that came the obvious thought of who else had slept there over the years.  
  
Uruha's heart dropped at that notion as he moved farther into the room. He took a calming breath and stood there for a brief moment.  
  
It felt like Aoi was invading his senses. It smelled so much like him; a mixture of cologne, worn leather and incense. It was a smell Uruha had come to love. It was both soothing and heady all in the same breath.  
  
He moved over to the closet set into the wall and opened it. He quickly rifled through it, pulling out an old tour shirt and a pair of pants and slipped them on. Once dressed, he quickly dried his hair with the hairdryer lying atop the chest of drawers opposite the foot of the bed.  
  
After that, he looked in the mirror and faffed around with his hair a little before giving up and blowing it out of his face. Uruha stared at his reflection. He looked somewhat more presentable.  
  
However, he still looked tired and the fact he'd fallen asleep with contacts in didn't do him any favours. A quick rummage through of Aoi's toiletries upon the drawers presented him with eye drops. Normally he wouldn't use other people's eye drop solutions or the like, but the seal was unbroken and his eyes were in need of moisture.  
  
Moments later, eyes feeling a lot more hydrated and happier, Uruha yawned and allowed himself to flop onto the large, western style bed in the room with a flat flump sound.  
  
It reminded him of air escaping a Ziploc bag. If only it was his feelings escaping and leaving him forever.  
  
He lay there, sprawled out awkwardly with his eyes closed and his cheek pressed into one of the pillows, and allowed the weight of his body to sink into the comfortable bed. The cool feeling of silk sheets on his skin was almost soothing. _Almost._  
  
Every time he breathed in he could smell Aoi's scent and it was intoxicating. He chewed the inside of his cheek and tried to distract himself from the feelings the welled up. It was hard not to think about his crush when he was lying right there on the bed that Aoi used to sleep, to...  
  
_Fucking hell._  
  
Just what the fuck was he doing with his life? He scrunched the pillow close to his face and rolled over, resisting the urge to scream into it out of frustration.  
  
Uruha hoped that the bed would suddenly come alive like some kind of monster with teeth, that it would swallow him whole and that would be the end of him and the end of his feelings.  
  
However, that didn't happen. Instead, he heard the bedroom door open with a quiet creak.  
  
"Oi, you okay?" Aoi's concerned voice broke the silence of the room, curious but mostly worried as to why Uruha was lying on his bed.  
  
Uruha groaned from underneath the pillow pressed to his face and let out a muffled sound.  
  
He heard Aoi move closer to him. "What was that? You're muffled."  
  
Soon enough the bed dipped under the weight of Aoi's body and calloused fingers pried the pillow away from Uruha and out of his grasp. Uruha sighed, unable to hide from him now.  
  
"I'm fine." Uruha frowned mostly to himself. He didn't like the way that Aoi was looking at him as if Aoi was trying to uncover the secrets that he held close to his heart; as if he knew that Uruha was lying.  
  
Aoi sighed, obviously unable to find an answer to the silent questions in his head. After a few beats, he finally spoke, looking a little guilty. "Sorry if I woke you earlier, by the way."  
  
Uruha sat up against the headboard and stared at him with an amused look. "You did but it's okay, I needed to wake up anyhow," he teased. "Say, what did your lovely mother want?"  
  
Aoi groaned and fell back onto the bed. He slid his hands over his face in frustration. "Oh, you know, the usual. When am I coming home to visit and am I staying healthy and most importantly, my sister is getting married soon and she was wondering when I'd follow her example."  
  
Uruha laughed. "She's so desperate for you to get married. Watch out, if it continues like this, she might have Masako in a wedding dress soon."  
  
Aoi sighed. "Yeah, I know she just wants to see me happy... but..." He looked conflicted, as if he was about to say something more on the matter but relented and dropped the subject. "Are you hungry? It's getting kinda late."  
  
Uruha looked at clock atop the bedside table next to them as if to confirm what Aoi said and nibbled his lower lip. Part of him wanted to stay but the bigger part of him knew that he needed to get home. He'd taken up enough of Aoi's time as it was anyway and he should probably call Ruki to apologise for concerning him.  
  
Besides, he needed time and distance from Aoi in order to reflect and figure out some things before their next band meeting which was scheduled very soon.  
  
"No, I'm okay. I should probably be getting home though," he declined.  
  
"That's okay, more for me then." Aoi laughed, patting his stomach. However, he seemed a little different, almost... Sad? Uruha hoped he hadn't touched a nerve with his joke about his mother and the mention of his girlfriend.  
  
Uruha moved to get off the bed, silently announcing the beginning of his departure. Aoi followed suit, trailing after him. Uruha failed to ignore the way that Aoi watched him with dark eyes, heavy with something he would never understand, as he moved around the living room picking up his belongings and gathering up the sheets of music they had made together.  
  
It wasn't long before Uruha was standing, albeit a little shorter, in front of Aoi inside the genkan of the apartment. Looking up at him, Uruha fumbled with the messenger bag in his hands, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.  
  
"Thanks... for last night, and today," he said quietly. "And thanks for letting me borrow some clothes, I'll wash them before returning them to you. Oh, and I owe you an untouched bottle of eye solution."  
  
Why did he feel so awkward? Not for the first time, he felt like a dumb teenager and scolded himself. He was a grown man for God's sake, he shouldn't be acting this way.  
  
"It's okay, Uru. I'm glad I could help," Aoi replied, smiling affably and waving off Uruha's gratitude. "As for the rest, no worries. It's what friends are for, right?"  
  
Uruha nodded, saying his goodbyes one last time, and turned to let himself out of the apartment. Once outside in the cold evening air, he couldn't help but feel the sting of Aoi's words.  
  
_Friends?_ He didn't want to be friends.  
  
Friends... What did that word even mean anymore? He was no friend of Aoi's was he? Friends were honest with one another. They didn't use each other or desire things of them that they couldn't give.  
  
He was a liar and a coward and he was so ashamedly in love with one of his best friends that it threatened to tear their friendship apart. If only he could put his feelings aside; kick their rabid, dogged tendencies down and forget about them. His problems would all be solved if that were the case.  
  
However, it wasn't and it seemed like he was destined to be plagued by them until he finally got sick of having to face his reflection in the mirror every day and finally did something about _everything_.  
  
Until that time, though, he would just have to live with the notion that he, just like his feelings, was no better than a sick animal.


	6. I Can Help With That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be slower from now on. Sorry about that. :(  
>    
>  Also, just to **warn** you all: there's some **het!sex** in this chapter. Out of respect to those that could do without reading it, **I marked the beginning and end of the scene with three asterisks (***)**. CTRL+F to skip past it. :3  
>    
>  Now that's out of the way, onto the chapter, eh? Hope you enjoy it~ And for those that read the whole thing, I hope it's not too over the top. I'm... not the best at writing that kinda content, haha. ._.

As soon as the door shut quietly behind Uruha's form, the smile on Aoi's face fell away completely and was replaced by that of a frown. He sighed heavily and leaned against the small console table in the hallway. His body sagged with the weight of everything he was holding in at that moment and his mind was a foggy maze in which he couldn't make head nor tail of anything.  
  
All he knew was that he had a pent-up frustration that needed to be let out somehow and he couldn't think about anything else other than the near naked form of Uruha in his kitchen.  
  
Once his phone conversation with his mother had been interrupted by none other than Uruha standing naked, save for a towel to cover his modesty, it had been over for Aoi. His jaw had almost dropped to the floor and he’d had a hard time relaying anything to and receiving anything from his mother after that. It was all garbled, white noise to him at that point.  
  
Nothing mattered but the fact that Uruha had been so close, too close for comfort and so real, tangible and warm, under his touch for a fraction of time. And how he wished it had been for longer; how he wished that time had stood still for an immeasurable moment, maybe even forever.  
  
So that he could have allowed his hands to pull Uruha closer, so that he could have pressed his palm into the small of Uruha's back and grasped his neck in a gentle-firm grip and urged him to bend to his will, to bend to his feelings. That Uruha would give in and give Aoi everything he'd ever wanted from him and in turn, he would give Uruha everything that he hadn't known he'd been missing.  
  
During that moment, he had fought so hard to kill the deep-seated desire to worship Uruha's body on the kitchen counter then and there. It had taken Aoi a good few seconds to get a hold of himself in Uruha's presence and he hoped it hadn't shown. If it had, Uruha said nothing of it before he'd left to go get dressed, while naked in his bedroom, in none other than Aoi's clothes which in turn set off a whole other wave of inappropriate thoughts.  
  
In order to stem the flow of blood to his nether regions, he ended up talking to his mother for far longer than necessary and, luckily, it had paid off. Her talk of the next door neighbour's cat beheading one of her prized chickens had done a fine job of ruining all bad intentions that his brain might have had toward the man getting dressed in his bedroom just a few feet down the hallway.  
  
But honestly, it was a wonder that he was still a functioning human being. Since the kitchen incident, his brain had almost all but packed up and left, leaving the majority of his thinking to be done by his dick up until then. The conversation he had with Uruha before he'd left was strained at best and awkward at worst on his part. He'd found himself trying to focus on Uruha's words while also being completely aware of the fact that they were both lying on his bed.  
  
Once more, he hoped and prayed that Uruha hadn't noticed shit.  
  
However, now that he was alone with nothing to occupy his time, and with the memory of slaughtered chickens far out of his mind, he was finding it hard to resist the urge that grew more noticeable with every second that ticked by.  
  
Aoi closed his eyes and tried to will away the mental images his mind conjured up for him to obsess over some more. And when that inevitably failed, he instead opted to bang his head, none too gently, off the wall behind him. Sadly, the dull _thud, thud, thud_ that echoed the hallway and that rattled away in his head did nothing to help his situation.  
  
Aside from a sore head, he now had visions of pressing Uruha into said wall and banging the ever loving fuck out of _him_ instead.  
  
"Well, shit. Fucking... fuck," he growled out loud and kicked at the rug beneath his sock-clad feet. 'Frustrated' didn't even begin to cover it. And the obvious bulge in his pants didn't help matters. Now he really was forced to do something about it, unable to ignore it any longer.  
  
There wouldn't be any peace from his errant mind until he did something about his dilemma. He sighed and pushed away from the small table in order to make his way through to the living room. Once there, he picked up his phone and called the one person who could help him with his little problem.  
  
Masako.  
  
On one hand, he wasn't entirely okay with the notion that he was about to use her for something that didn't strictly involve her. On the other hand, it was all he could do, he felt way too skeevy at that point to actually jerk off to his best friend-cum-infatuation at that point.  
  
Besides, the need inside him had grown far too strong for a simple hand and a glob of lotion. He _needed_ something real, something tangible, something warm like Uruha had been earlier. He needed that fire, needed the prickling heat under the palms of his hands. He wanted someone that he could touch and feel, map and mould, that accepted and reciprocated everything he poured into them.  
  
While that would never be Uruha, he knew that Masako would always be ready, willing and able, unable to say no to him.  
  
However, he didn't feel comfortable with that notion either. But... what else was there for him? Screw him for wanting a human need sated by another human being. Someone that would feel the same way about him as he felt about Uruha. Screw him for wanting to feel something other than his hand, for wanting to look into loving eyes while he got off.  
  
He sighed and dialled Masako's number, all the while thinking that really, screw him because he was a selfish dick.  
  
The other end of the line picked up after a few rings. "Hey, I was wondering when you'd call," Masako spoke, an obvious smile on her face based on the tone of her voice. "I was _almost_ beginning to get worried."  
  
He smiled, albeit a little restrained. He honestly did feel horrible for wasting her time like this. She could have someone so much better. "Are you free to come over tonight?" he enquired, trying to sound as casual as possible. He really didn't want to make it seem like he was just calling her up for one thing and one thing only.  
  
But her response put him at ease. "I'm about to get off work. I've been a little overworked lately, I need to loosen up. Do you think you can help me with that, Aoi?" she replied. He could hear the intention laced in Masako's words, could hear the sultriness in her tone and from the way his name rolled off her tongue.  
  
If he wasn't turned on before, he certainly was now. "I'm fairly certain I can help with that," he teased before his voice took on a softer tone. "Are you hungry? Want me to order in some dinner for you?" he asked, just in case she was hungry—she tended to be a workaholic not unlike Uruha was.  
  
There he went, comparing the two again. He was a sick, selfish bastard. He needed to stop, he knew. Somehow, he just couldn't.  
  
Masako laughed. "Ever the gentleman, aren't you?" she responded, obviously touched by his sentiment. "I'll pass, though thank you for thinking about me. I'll get something when I'm done with work. I should be over in about an hour if the traffic is okay."  
  
Aoi rolled his eyes and smiled, despite the situation and the current feeling of anxiousness, she always put him at ease. Everything was, usually, so much simpler with her. Why couldn't he just love her wholly, instead? Everything would be a damn sight easier if that was the case. It would make a lot more sense and he wouldn't be so confused or hurt over his own feelings.  
  
"Well, I'm gonna get myself some food anyway, I'm starving—"  
  
Before he could finish his sentence Masako interrupted without missing a beat. "I mean, you could do that... but why eat food when you could eat me?"  
  
Aoi almost choked on the intake of air. He still wasn't used to how forward she was, even after months of spending time with her in his downtime. He heard her laughing, obviously pleased by his reaction. He narrowed his eyes and smirked. "Well, if dinner's on you, then I guess dessert is on me."  
  
"Mm, I'd like that. I'm sure you would, too," she hummed softly in a mix of amusement and desire. "I'll see you then, Star."  
  
"Mm, see you soon," he mimicked and shook his head, a little bemused, as the line went dead.  
  
Yeah, he might not love her like that but he really couldn't deny, that if the situation was any different, she was definitely someone he could see himself with for life. She always kept him on his toes and gave him a run for his money. She was entertaining and wild when she wanted to be and soft and demure when she needed to be. Sometimes Aoi liked her assertiveness, her passion. Other times he liked it when she sucked him off on bended knee, with wide, innocent eyes. And he was sure, if ever given the opportunity, she would make a great mother, too.  
  
He tried to ignore the feeling that he was denying her true happiness and instead ordered some food for himself because he really was actually quite hungry. Still, he had some time to kill before his food's arrival and before Masako came over, so he used his time wisely and set about giving his apartment a quick spruce up.  
  
He was almost done when his phone buzzed signalling that the delivery guy had arrived with his food. He quickly gave his details and a few minutes later he had handed over the money and was in the process of sitting on the couch, shovelling some curry into his mouth when he noticed that he had missed something in his clean up.  
  
"What the...?" he wondered aloud as he set his bowl of chicken curry and rice on top of the coffee table in front of him and bent over to peer at the small object situated under the edge of the sofa.  
  
He pulled it out from under him and upon closer inspection, found that it seemed to be a mixture of a journal and a diary. He flipped through it, wondering where it came from because he'd never seen it before. He stopped in his perusal when he came across a particular page. It was interesting, filled to the brim with lots of little doodles and random music notation dotted all over it.  
  
In amongst the scribbles, there was a cartoon version of each one of the band members. It certainly wasn't in Ruki's grotesque, over the top style, nor was it reminiscent of Reita's simple drawing style.  
  
And then he realised that he was looking at Uruha's little works of art, scribbled in black ink upon the pages of the journal. Now that he looked at it properly, the writing was indeed familiar to him. Albeit it wasn't the usual rushed chicken scratch that he was used to from Uruha. This writing was much neater and seemed to be thought out; written slower, more deliberate and with care but it still had the same nuances as his regular writing.  
  
He smiled at the drawings and read over each little description beside each character.  
  
_Ruki-kun the chihuahua, our fiercely loyal brat with a bark worse than his bite. Reita-kun the parakeet, our comical and talkative, occasionally bird-brained bassist. Kai-kun the (headless) chicken, our caring but firm, stressed mother hen who always pushes us to do our best. Uruha the hawk, self-described nerdy, acting-older brother and avid video game addict. Aoi-kun the fox, our incredibly generous and charming, foxy guitarist._  
  
Aoi snorted. Foxy, huh? And here he thought he was just a dorky loser. As for Uruha being the older brother of the band in the way that he looked out for everyone, despite being the third youngest... While that was true for everyone else, he certainly didn't think of Uruha as an older brother, that was for sure.  
  
Intrigued, he continued flipping through the journal despite knowing very well how rude and inappropriate of him it was. It was mostly the usual stuff expected of Uruha: fractured parts of old and new songs he was either working on or had outright abandoned, lists of all sorts (groceries, guitar equipment, there was even a ranking of the best video games that were coming out that year), as well as times and dates of work-related commitments and engagements of a personal nature, too.  
  
Occasionally there were more rounded entries, though most of them read like drafts for his Heresy fan club blog. Aoi laughed. Uruha was a bit pedantic at times. The fans, for the most part, didn't care what they blogged about, as long as they blogged. Uruha actually seemed to plan out his blog entries? A fond smile tugged at his lips and his heart fluttered. This was news to Aoi, highly endearing news. Uruha wasn't lying about being a huge nerd, it seemed.  
  
Still smiling, he was about to shut the journal and put it on the coffee table in order to text Uruha that he'd left it at his house but stopped short as something caught his eye. It was a page near the back that was folded vertically in half, down the middle. He unfolded it and smoothed it out. The smile soon fell from his face. "What the fuck?" he found himself saying out loud, confused to hell.  
  
As he continued reading Uruha's words, he felt angrier and angrier. He wanted to punch a wall. How the fuck? Who the fuck? Names, of which Aoi could only assume were Uruha's exes, were written neatly on one side of the page and beside each name, were a number of little reasons as to why Uruha wasn't the person for them.  
  
_Never around enough, don't buy gifts often enough, rarely go out to eat together, always obsessed with band matters, always seem to be preoccupied with someone else, selfish, boring..._  
  
The list continued and while Aoi could honestly say that Uruha was none of these things, he did notice that at least ten of the reasons listed were along the lines of Uruha having interests that lay somewhere else, or rather, in someone else as it was put.  
  
But the most heartbreaking part of it all, for Aoi, happened to be the small, insecure words written down at the bottom. _"Do your best, Uru. We'll try to do better on this matter, ne?"_  
  
Aoi slammed it shut and threw it onto the coffee table. He found his phone and mashed out a message to Uruha. _"Yo, you left your diary here, Uru. I'll bring it with me to the studio tomorrow for you."_  
  
He knew Uruha was a perfectionist but he didn't realise just how much of a perfectionist he was. Was Uruha really so caught up with being the best version of himself that he actually took on board all of these idiots' opinions? These people didn't know shit about Uruha. They hadn't spent years watching Uruha struggle with his confidence and his looks after years of teasing.  
  
They hadn't spent years watching him struggle to make his dream a reality while trying hard not to lose or compromise himself and his ideals. They certainly hadn't been there long enough to realise how caring Uruha was, how he would go out of his way to buy things for people to make them smile.  
  
Nor was Uruha boring and he certainly wasn’t the least bit selfish. And as for band matters? It was his job and if they didn't see that, then they didn't deserve to be in Uruha's life. What in the hell was wrong with the people that Uruha dated?  
  
Aoi really didn't get it at all. Uruha didn't need to try so hard to be perfect, he already was in Aoi's mind. Uruha was perfect and more than enough for him and anyone else that knew him. Why couldn't these arseholes that he chose to date see that too? He felt horrible for Uruha on his behalf.  
  
No wonder Uruha seemed so... deflated lately.  
  
And what of this person that his previous partners seemed to think he was preoccupied with and more devoted to? If that was true, why wasn't he with them instead? Was he scared? Maybe he had already asked and got a no from them?  
  
Why hadn't he heard Uruha mention this person to him? He was curious now, if a little jealous, too. Though if it was true that Uruha had asked this person out and was rebuffed, Aoi couldn't blame him for not mentioning anything. After reading that list, a rejection from this unidentified person had probably caused an internal crisis within Uruha.  
  
It was ironic that it seemed like he and Uruha had the same problem in their life—loving someone that didn't love them.  
  
Aoi sighed and went back to trying to finish his food. After a few mouthfuls, he gave up on the now cold curry. He was no longer hungry, his appetite gone completely when he realised how messed up Uruha was inside his respective head-space. He wished that he hadn't gone through the diary after discovering it but maybe it was a good thing he had or he would never have known Uruha was struggling with self-acceptance.  
  
Aoi walked through to the kitchen and dumped his leftovers into the bin and went about rinsing his spoon and bowl. All the while, he wondered if there was a way to help Uruha. He didn't know what to do about it but maybe he could start a conversation about how he accidentally kicked it and it fell open to that page? And that if Uruha needed to, he could talk to him.  
  
Then again, probably not. Aoi noted that “ _it just fell open_ ” was the lamest excuse in the book, in the history of ever, and there was no way that Uruha would fall for that particular one. He would have to think on it and come up with a something better. Or he could just ignore it and let it be.  
  
Perhaps it was best that he let it go, after all. Uruha probably wouldn’t appreciate his need to help, nor would he be thankful for the reminder of his supposed shortcomings.  
  
After drying and putting everything away, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and traipsed back through to the living room. He flopped onto the leather couch and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table and flicked through the T.V. channels. He finally settled on a nature documentary and zoned out to the sound of a narrator describing the ins and outs of meerkat family life and the dangerous predators of the Kalahari.  
  
A short while later he was pulled out of his stupor by the sound of his apartment doorbell buzzing loudly. He quickly switched the television off and got up to answer the door. As soon as he opened the door, Masako practically launched herself at him and purred against his mouth. "Hey, Star," she whispered before she kissed him hard.

*******

It wasn't long after that they were losing their clothes, along with their minds, as he took control of the kiss and walked their bodies backwards through the apartment to his bedroom.  
  
They fell into a familiar rhythm, rocking against each other hard, panting and groaning loudly. Ah's and oh's swallowed by gasping, greedy mouths and Masako's needy cries of "Oh fuck, more, mmm God, yesyesyes–" were watered down with the sound of skin smacking and the sound of everything left unsaid between them.  
  
Her fingers bit into flesh, clawing at the muscle beneath as her mouth and tongue sucked and laved at Aoi's throat, trying to tear from it more of the guttural growls he produced between them as he slid into her over and over. Abused and bruised, they continued their assault on each other's body. Aoi was merciless in his pace, thrusting in and pulling out, to slam into her again, alternating between tortuously slow and wildly ardent. All the while, Masako was unforgiving in her vicious treatment of his scalp, carding her fingers through thick hair, tugging and gripping it harshly as he fucked her hard.  
  
She raked her nails down his back, lavishing it with angry welts as Aoi grabbed at her arse, kneading and gripping flesh under his palm, forcing her closer still so that they were almost one entity. She moaned loudly when his dick slipped out of her and stared up at him through a fringe plastered to her face, her grin challenging and almost bordering on feral. She whispered thickly, voice filled with arousal, "This is too nice and domestic, can you do me from behind?"  
  
Aoi almost lost his balance. _Well, fuck,_ was that a challenge? He mirrored her grin, eyes dark and full of passion. _Challenge accepted_.  
  
Before Masako could say anything more, he grabbed her and flipped her over, pulling her down the bed toward him, so that they were flush against one another once more. A second later, he pushed into her, pressed her into the pillows and forced her hips back against his. They both groaned, the change of angle allowing him to go deeper. Everything felt much more intense and less personal. It was completely liberating and entirely dirty.  
  
He let a hand slide up her back in order to fist the hair at the nape of her neck, he pulled it tightly and she let out a keening moan as he fucked her roughly. He pulled her up once more, allowing her to press against him, sliding into her much slower this time, shallow thrusts having her begging for more until he slid a hand around her waist and down her stomach to cup her most intimate area.  
  
He brushed his lips against her neck, panting loudly against her sweat-slicked skin, the ghost of perfume still on her neck. He pulled out of her and she sighed at the loss. “Is this what you want?" he growled, as he slid a finger between the seam of her labia, circling her clit before it slid down further and slipped into her. Her head fell against his shoulder, resting there. Her mouth went slack for a moment as he fucked her slowly, teasing her, with his fingers.  
  
"Nngh, _shit_ , oh, fuck," she stuttered, breathing rapidly as the feeling in her stomach quickened and coiled tighter. "Mmm, my fucking Star."  
  
She felt him grin against the skin of her neck, before his mouth descended upon it, sucking soft flesh into his mouth and marking pale skin. "You know it." Confident and so full of himself.  
  
She laughed under her breath, smiling as she melted against him. "Fuck, I love you, you idiot," she told him with words that were full of a fondness that spoke of all the love she held for him.  
  
He smiled bitterly into her neck and kissed it softly. Her words were a reminder of how fucked up the whole situation was. He held in a sigh and allowed his fingers slip out of her completely then, but her disappointment didn't last long as his fingers were back on her clit as he thrust into her once more, this time harder. No longer teasing, but brutal as he let all of his anger at himself seep into their rough sex.  
  
It wasn't long before their ragged breathing filled the room once more along with the sound of their bodies moving against each other, uncontrolled and unthinking in their movements.  
  
They were like rabid animals, rutting against each other, chasing an intense, bright light against the dark of their eyelids. Masako was a writhing, barely functioning mess and Aoi only fared slightly better. She balanced on her knees, supported by Aoi's strong arms around her stomach as he moved inside of her. She moaned at the feeling of his fingertips still against her; calloused, wet and sticky, only now they were more frenzied and uncoordinated.  
  
He groaned loudly and could feel her muscles tightening, it wasn't long before her stomach convulsed violently, squeezing down around him and she cried out loudly, his name repeated on her tongue like a messianic prayer.  
  
He came soon after to the sound of Masako moaning, urging him on into his own bliss, as her muscles contracted around him and he felt spent to within an inch of his life—all thought was gone from his mind as blinding white washed over him, hitting him hard and fast. His jaw went slack and he couldn't think as he slumped over her back, both of their bodies finally giving out under the intensity of their passion, completely lost and breathless in oblivion.  
  
Sometime later, Masako groaned and moved, sensitive and sore. "Hey, babe, I love you but you're crushin' me," she whispered, breathing hard, still in the midst of calming her racing heart. He grunted in response, unable to form a coherent answer, still in the throes of his orgasm but complied. She almost moaned as he slipped out of her gingerly and rolled off and away from her, leaving her empty and shivering in the cool air of the room.

*******

Finally, after breathing had evened out and pleasure had ebbed away, Aoi turned to face Masako and smiled, lazy and slow, in his post-coital lethargy, voice already touching on sleepy. "Did I help in the end?"  
  
Masako laughed and leaned over to kiss him, chaste and sweet. "I think you did more than help," she replied in a quiet voice and grinned. "I'm going to go take a shower, I'm all sweaty," she whispered against his mouth before she pulled away from him and got up from the bed. A second later her naked body was gone from his view as he heard the shower turn on in the bathroom across the hall.  
  
He sighed heavily, back breaking under the weight of everything. He couldn't keep doing this to her. Having her jump at his beck and call, using her when he needed to release pent up energy and frustration. He was being unfaithful to her in every way, but physical, and he was sure that deep down she had some inkling about it. She was far too good for him.  
  
He shook his head and groaned. He needed to do something about the fact that he was so fucking pathetically in love with Uruha. He wasn't just hurting himself only but now he was hurting Masako, too. He was getting too old to dream of things that would never happen.  
  
He owed it to her to be faithful, to get over Uruha. He owed it to himself to have a life free of torment. He deserved happiness, real and tangible, instead of the unattainable. Masako deserved him to treat her the way she should have been treated from the start.  
  
He rolled off the bed and discarded the used condom and went to go join her in the shower. Mind made up, he was determined to be there for her as much as he could be. He was determined to be present in the moment with her and from then on he would have to try harder for her.  
  
Once out the shower, they dried off and slipped under the covers. Aoi gathered her in his arms once more and watched as she drifted off into a peaceful slumber. Aoi, on the other hand, couldn't fall asleep, regretful that his decision to shower had washed away the tendrils of sleepiness along with the evidence of their tryst.  
  
He brushed dark wisps of hair from Masako's face and admired her simple beauty, free of the enhancements of makeup. Her face was made up of a sharp jaw and a straight nose softened by full cheeks and the gentle swell of sensuous lips. Her normally warm, inviting brown eyes were hidden beneath eyelids and long eyelashes that rested upon pale skin, still rosy from the heat of their passion and the warmth of the shower.  
  
She smiled in her sleep and unconsciously snuggled closer into his chest, pressing into the warmth of his body. She was so vulnerable and trusting of him in that moment. His heart swelled with the overwhelming feeling of guilt that he couldn't shake. She had willingly given him her heart a few months after they'd met in some seedy karaoke bar. Honest and open eyes truly believing him to be the one that was deserving enough to wield the power of being able to hold her together or allowing her to fall apart.  
  
Aoi hadn't the heart to say no and she hadn't known to save herself the heartache. She didn't deserve this falsehood, this guise of love. He was robbing her of true happiness. It wasn't fair at all on her. It was time for him to grow up or back down.  
  
An hour later and he was still awake. He had too much going on in his head. From guitar riffs to what he was bringing to the band meeting to how he was going to exorcise the ghost that had taken up residence inside and haunted his heart. He was buzzing with a bitter melancholy that couldn't be vented in any other way than through his true mistress; music.  
  
He gently retrieved his arms from around Masako's body and slipped out of bed as quietly as he could. After pulling on some boxers and a pair of pyjama pants, he padded downstairs to the lower level of his apartment where his home studio was located and picked up one of his old acoustic guitars.  
  
It was the one that Uruha had played the night before and he remembered that somehow it was much warmer sounding than his favourite acoustic. He'd forgotten why he'd bought it up until that point and decided that it was slightly fitting that this guitar was to be the one to put a voice to the thoughts in his head and the feelings inside his chest, at that moment then.  
  
Soon enough he'd composed three songs and he was feeling about as spent as he had earlier after his and Masako's romp together in bed. After saving and burning copies of the songs to disc, he slipped back upstairs and back into bed with his girlfriend. She stirred in her sleep, moaning softly as he enveloped her in his arms again. His cool skin soon warmed up under the heat of her body and he felt a wave of calm wash over him and seep into his bones as he began to drift off into a dreamless sleep.  
  
With a fire lit under his arse, he was resolutely determined to do everything in his power to distance himself from Uruha. For the sake of his sanity, he needed to move on from the source of his anguish and happiness.  
  
It was time to get over this infatuation and build something real and meaningful between himself and Masako.


	7. Thank You For Caring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, SpaghettiOs, sorry for being late with this chapter update, yo. I think I like moping!Uruha a little too much, it seems. Anyway, onto the chapter~ Hope you enjoy! :3 See ya in the next one, maybe?

By the time Uruha had made it home, it was almost nine in the evening and he was tired beyond belief. Before he could even think of going home, he was forced to drop by the studio first to collect his car. After that, he made a quick stop at his local 7-Eleven to pick up a bite to eat and drink. He had hoped the caffeinated drink would have had an effect on him. However, all it did was increase his anxieties and as for the food he had eaten, that had only added to the lethargy he felt.  
  
Upon arriving at his apartment building and after unlocking the door to his home, he dumped all his stuff at the door, kicked his shoes off and headed straight for his bedroom. He was ready to pass out for a good few hours.  
  
In his tired state he just barely remembered to remove the contact lenses he'd worn for far too long and managed to pull off his clothes before he promptly collapsed in a haphazard pile on top of his bed out of exhaustion. He stayed like that, in a dreamless sleep, snoring quietly, for some time.  
  
But inevitably the world called back to him along with the insistent sound of his phone coming from inside one of the back pockets of Aoi's borrowed jeans.  
  
He groaned and fumbled around in the dark for the light switch on the bedside lamp and regretted it instantly as his senses were accosted by too much light, all at once. It took a few seconds for his sore eyes to adjust to the brightness. When he could finally see without squinting, he felt around for his glasses and slipped them on with a frown.  
  
He scrambled out of bed and lunged for the trousers he'd left in a heap on the floor and rummaged around for the offending noise that interrupted his sleep. Upon retrieving it, he let out a victorious noise and was about to press answer when the sound of his ringtone cut off abruptly.  
  
Typical. Of course, when he had finally found his phone, the culprit would hang up.  
  
He stood there, disoriented and still half asleep, in the middle of his room staring at the lock screen. It took a couple of seconds to register that he had a missed call from Reita and two text messages, one from Aoi and another from Ruki.  
  
He sighed and proceeded to open the messages first. Reita could wait because he was the dickhead that disturbed his rest.  
  
Upon opening the text from Ruki, he snorted in amusement. _"I hope you worked out whatever the hell you were dealing with, idiot. Reply to me so I can stop worrying about your dumb ass."_ It was signed with a sarcastic looking emoji.  
  
Classic Ruki, blunt and slightly abusive.  
  
To anyone that wasn't the band, it would have come across rude as hell and the caring subtlety would have easily been lost on them. To the people that knew him best, however, reading between the lines, it was easy to see the tenderness masked by harsh words. Really, Ruki was incredibly soft under the exterior hardened by years of rough parenting and a selfish world.  
  
None of them could ask for a better vocalist. Kai, their drummer, may have been their band's leader but Ruki was surely the stubborn glue that kept them all together.  
  
He typed a quick response to Ruki. _"Hey Ru-chan,"_ —he smiled smugly, knowing full well Ruki detested that particular pet name— _"Sorry I forgot to call. Thank you for caring. I'll see you in the studio later. I got presents for ya."_  
  
Once done with that, he checked the message from Aoi and instantly wanted to die. He'd left his journal at Aoi’s house? "Fuck, fuck, shit," was all Uruha could utter as he realised that there was no way Aoi hadn't read it.  
  
How stupid could he have been? There were personal things in there that revolved around Aoi. Things he'd written about his dilemmas involving Aoi. Things he wasn't proud of anyone knowing.  
  
Sure most of it might have been varying degrees of cryptic—having two older, nosy sisters had taught him that he couldn't be too careful with things of a _PRIVATE_ and _KEEP OUT_ nature—but it wasn't totally impossible to put two and two together to make an actual fucking mess of everything.  
  
And then there was that list, that one page where he'd written a bunch of complaints from his exes in a fit of insecurity. Maybe... Maybe Aoi hadn't seen it? Oh, God, how fucking embarrassing if he had. His face felt warm at the thought and he could feel a blush spread up his neck to reach his cheeks.  
  
"Just great, bloody great," he groaned out loud and wanted an instant death then and there. Well, this would probably be a whole new level of awkward for him to deal with. _How fun_ , he thought in a sarcastic tone.  
  
They were due in the studio later on that day and he wasn't sure if he could even face Aoi. The prospect of having to talk to him after Aoi had probably read his innermost thoughts was too daunting a task at that moment. However, it was only five o'clock in the morning which meant he had a good few hours before he had to be anywhere. Which meant that he had a good few hours to sit and mull things over, to worry about Aoi and the journal situation, to figure out how he was gonna spin things if questions were asked and answers were prompted.  
  
He heaved a deep breath in and let it out slowly, trying to calm his already shot nerves. If it wasn't one thing, it was always another. He'd dealt with worse in the past (this would surely be a lot easier than explaining away the occasional onstage hard-ons or kisses he had pressed to Aoi's face or body in the heat of the moment), he could certainly deal with this.  
  
Knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, he figured that he should actually do something productive with his time. First things first, he needed a shower to fully wake his sleep-fogged, tired brain up. After that, coffee sounded good. Perhaps he should also call Reita back, too, to see what that particular brand of idiot wanted. He was used to random calls at all times of the night but even then, Reita usually didn't call him up so early in the morning.  
  
Reita would usually wait until around seven A.M. before he started his _"Oi, Shima, wake up!"_ tirade, checking up on Uruha to see if he was awake, dressed and ready to either be picked up by their manager or make it into the studio by way of his own. Reita, hell, the whole band, knew that Uruha wasn't particularly fond of being woken up from a deep sleep. Especially not on the days that required him being cooped up in the studio for long periods of time, especially not at crazy times in the morning.  
  
Sleep was a luxury that Uruha was known _not_ to waste. If given half the chance, Uruha was sure that by now, he would have perfected the art of playing his guitar while asleep, or while snuggled up in the blankets of his warm bed. Either or, he wouldn't have complained. Instead, he wasn't afforded that particular power or luxury, nor was he afforded the wish of him having a clone to cover for him on his more slothful, apathetic days.  
  
He sighed and pulled some clean clothes from his closet, grabbing Aoi's dirty clothes from the floor along the way, and headed to the bathroom. He showered quickly and once dressed, made sure to brush his teeth thoroughly.  
  
After collecting some dirty laundry from the clothes hamper, he placed it into the washing machine in his bathroom and set it to a short wash cycle. Leaving the bathroom, he walked through to his kitchen as he rubbed his hair dry with a towel. Once done, he slung the damp towel over one of the kitchen chairs and then set about brewing some strong coffee. As it brewed, he went off in search of his phone and a few minutes later he returned to the kitchen where he began sipping on his coffee while awaiting Reita picking up his phone.  
  
"'Ello?" came a voice sleepy, hoarse voice.  
  
"Yo, what's up? You called me an hour ago?" he spoke as soon as Reita answered. Both the shower and the coffee seeping into his system seemed to be having the desired effect, Uruha was wide awake and slightly chipper much to the chagrin of his best friend on the other end of the line.  
  
"Wha'? No, I didn't?" Reita responded, clearly confused.  
  
"Uh, yes, you did," Uruha replied. "It woke me up, dickhead."  
  
"Oh." The confusion in Reita's voice dispersed and was replaced with realisation. "I guess I must have mashed some keys when I went to hit snooze on my phone alarm. I didn't wanna go to the gym today since it's a studio day. Wanted all the sleep I could get."  
  
Uruha snorted. He was a little annoyed but mostly amused. "Are you shitting me? You woke me up because of _that_? I could have slept in, you do realise that, don't you?"  
  
"Well, yeah," Reita stated, sounding a lot more awake by now. "But at least I don't have to call you later on and have my head bitten off. Silver linings and all that, eh?"  
  
Uruha rolled his eyes and snorted once more. "Yeah, whatever you say, idiot. You now owe me a drink after work for this."  
  
"Sure thing," Reita replied, affable as ever. "I could use a drink anyhow, haven't been out in a while. The ball and chain won't let me as of late." A second later he could hear movement and the sound of a struggle, along with muffled voices, coming from the other side of the conversation. And then he winced as he heard the hard, resounding smack that landed upon some sensitive part of Reita's body. "Ow, shit, I was just joking! I take it back!"  
  
Uruha laughed loudly, enjoying the sound of his friend's torment at the hands of his girlfriend. Karma seemed to be on his side today, maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all today. "You seem like you have your hands full, so I'll let you go. See you at the studio," he spoke, trying to control his laughter. "Enjoy your beating. Tell Asami that I said hey."  
  
Reita let out a forlorn noise as Uruha left him to his fate; sealed, time stamped and dated. "Yeah, see you then... If I make it out of here alive."  
  
Ending the call, Uruha placed his phone on the kitchen counter and went to sit at the small dining table near the kitchen window. He sat there drinking his coffee, allowing his mind to wander as he stared out the window at the vast metropolis that came alive before his eyes. The sun rising was one of the best things about Tokyo. Light bounced off the buildings and traffic glinted under its rays. Despite the sprawling urbanisation, there was still beauty to be found throughout the wards.  
  
He sighed and focused on stirring the coffee in the mug lying before him, and tried to ignore the melancholy that settled in his bones like sediment falling to the ocean floor. He watched as the dark liquid began to resemble a whirlpool of miniature proportions inside the confines of the mug. Left to his own devices, with time on his hands, he had a habit of overthinking things and finding tragic poetry in things of a mundane nature. He stabbed the spoon back into the crockery, violently disrupting the swirling liquid, and let it drop against the side with a tinkling clatter.  
  
He didn't really understand where his sudden change in mood had come from. The sun was shining, the start of a lovely day, and yet there he was sat in his small kitchen, alone and moping. Perhaps it was all just a reminder of what he didn't have? Most people would be getting up and tending to their daily needs; mothers would be making breakfast and lunches, fathers hurrying to down coffee and read the news before heading to work, children getting ready for school and cramming homework into their backpacks.  
  
He wasn't a jealous person, he was normally content to just sit on the sidelines of love and observe but sometimes he couldn't help but feel like it would have been nice to just... sit and exist with someone else by his side. He kind of begrudged his friend of many years for having someone like Asami. They'd be sitting down to breakfast about now. Asami would be making him food and pouring him some magic smoothie stuffed with health benefits. And Reita would be grateful to her because he couldn't boil water to save his life.  
  
Uruha smiled. Reita was a fucking idiot. But he was his best friend. They'd been through so much together. They'd met in school when they both tried out for football practice. A timid Uruha had thought he looked like a monkey back then, though now Reita resembled more of a cockatiel (a fact made funnier by Reita's coincidental purchase of a cockatiel that he named Keiji). After Reita had shoved a half eaten ice cream at him in a show of friendship, they'd shared everything from then on.  
  
They had even shared an apartment together. Back then Reita had almost burned the whole complex down and even now when it was brought up in conversation, Reita would just stare at Uruha, smiling fondly, albeit with a slightly sheepish tinge to his face, and respond with a dorky, _"Ah, memories, right Shima?"_  
  
And they were. Those were the days. He actually enjoyed getting up sometimes back then. He enjoyed making Reita eat his vegetables (perhaps a little _too_ much) and making sure Reita was put together because given a chance, that shithead would walk out their old apartment in mismatched socks and some kind of ugly sweater and Uruha wouldn't be caught dead with him looking like that.  
  
Though somehow their friendship had changed, their roles almost reversed with age. Nowadays, it was usually Reita the one to be looking out for him, making sure Uruha had eaten and making sure he was still a functioning member of society. _"For the last time, Bonkura, I'm fine. If it makes you happy and shuts you up, I'll drink a litre of water like a responsible adult before I chug that litre of vodka, okay?"_  
  
And then there was the added attachment of Asami now.  
  
She and Reita had been childhood-to-teenage sweethearts that had been split apart by her parent's divorce and later by Uruha's insistence that he and Reita were destined for rock n' roll stardom, that they would never succumb to the boring monotony of the nine-to-five grind. He had convinced Reita, sold him the vision, and the older boy—now man—had followed willingly, picking up a bass and leaving everything behind along with the tender love letters from Asami.  
  
From then on their hearts and minds had been too stubborn and fierce to focus on anything but their next meal and sating the ravenous hunger for success. It wouldn't allow them to submit to becoming broken salarymen; it wouldn't allow them to become those men that they watched in rundown izakayas, finding and reminiscing their best moments at the bottom of a bottle.  
  
And then things had fallen into place with Ruki joining them on their crusade to burn as many bridges as they could in their search for more than the quiet life. Then came the addition of Yune and Aoi, a contradiction of suave and dorky in his dumb-looking reindeer sweater. Both had joined their ranks, in the process making an uneasy alliance.  
  
For a time it had been great, aside from the odd fight, but then it had all fallen apart again when Yune, their first drummer, had left. It was a bit like losing a limb but shortly after another had grown in its place.  
  
Leader-san, Kai, with his million watt smile and lone dimple and the ability to _mostly_ diffuse the ticking time bomb that was Aoi, had forced his way into the fray and after yet more fights—Kai's fists flying into Aoi's cheek on more than one occasion—they'd found their harmony and continued on until one day, in what seemed like fate, his dumb Bonkura bumped into Asami in the middle of a Lawson of all places.  
  
And then it was like things fell back into place some more. And Reita's smitten smile was more than enough to convince everyone that happiness was real and could still be found in such a dark and jaded world. _"You'll get your happy end, Shima. Just watch, it'll hit you before you see it comin'."_  
  
Except Uruha's happiness wasn't out there, he knew. It was at every band meeting, every gig, every single band photo-shoot. And as much as he really wished he had found that someone that made his smiles more meaningful in high school, that he had been one of the lucky few like Reita, he hadn't.  
  
Being gay in school wasn't exactly an easy thing. Forcing himself into the status quo had hurt, girls hadn't been for him. The only person he had told back then was Reita who had thankfully saw past that flaw (as his parents later came to describe it) and loved him for the person he was and not what he wasn't. It wasn't until he moved to Tokyo that he had been able to truly be himself. Even more so when they had found the visual kei scene, and subsequently their band.  
  
It was like a breath of air held in for an immeasurable amount of time. He was able to finally release a part of himself and find acceptance in the company of like-minded individuals. It was a movement and no one really cared what others did as long as they gave a shit about what it was they were doing and if they were serious. And then, amongst the limbs that he found himself tangling with, breaking hearts and having his broken in return, came Aoi.  
  
Older but slightly shorter than him, with frazzled hair dyed magenta and his charming smirk permanently plastered in place, the scent of the surf still on his tanned skin as if he'd just walked out of the ocean and into his life. He didn't give a shit about anything, he wasn't serious about anything. But somehow he was so cool and in Uruha's mind, he wanted to be him.  
  
And then those thoughts of admiration had tripped into the territory of infatuation when he'd caught Aoi and some other indie labelmate in the bathroom backstage in the smallest, dingiest club filled with smoke and hazy lights. He'd lingered a moment too long, watched the scene unfold before his eyes a little too eagerly, and had been rewarded with the sound of Aoi's pleasured moan hitting his ears as the guy between his legs had worked Aoi’s arousal in his mouth. The floor had creaked underfoot as Uruha shifted his weight, uncomfortably aroused, and let out a quiet gasp that was followed by Aoi's head rolling toward the sound, finding Uruha standing there, staring with wide, innocent eyes.  
  
It was a realisation for Uruha in that moment, coming to terms with something he hadn't ever really pried too deep into. It was like opening Pandora's box, and Aoi had smirked in that lazy, charming country-boy way of his and pressed a finger to his full lips, whispering loud enough for Uruha to hear in that tired Kansai drawl of his. _"I won't tell if you don't."_  
  
It had been over for Uruha then. From that moment onward, it was down the rabbit hole for Uruha to drown in sex, booze and music, and the thoughts of Aoi that plagued him. If Aoi was a tsunami, then Uruha was mere land.  
  
He'd started a fire in Uruha that day, one that was yet to be smothered and put out. Still ablaze and raging on with no intention of stopping anytime soon, Aoi hadn't even the heart to recognise what kind of mess he'd left in his wake.  
  
Uruha pressed his head to the cool, wooden table top and bemoaned his life, his fate. He'd take a million hits to the dick any day just to have a taste of Reita's happiness.  
  
His phone buzzed, signalling he had a message. He dragged his mug of now cold coffee with him and dumped it into the sink and thumbed through his phone.  
  
_"What kind of presents?"_  
  
Uruha laughed. Typical Ruki. He perked up at the fact he had something else to occupy his mind and typed a quick response. _"I wrote a bunch of songs for everyone to check out. One in particular that I might want to chat to you about."_  
  
A few seconds later there was a dumb emoji of shining eyes along with an, _"Ooh, I'm excited now. See ya soon,_ Duck Lord _."_  
  
He bristled at the last part. Payback for calling him _Ru-chan_ earlier, he supposed.  
  
Checking his phone once more for the time, he noted that it was nearing eight in the morning and he was due to be in the studio at nine. If he was to make it on time he had better get his arse into gear.  
  
Shortly after, he placed his messenger bag into the passenger seat and dumped a bunch of folders into the back seat of his car before dropping into the driver's seat and starting it up. He slid a hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses, along with the rearview mirror. A few seconds later he reversed out of the apartment block's designated parking area and made his way to their soon to be place of work for the next few months.  
  
While he'd stressed over pre-production, he was looking forward to the process of making music as a band. It had been a long while since they were all in the studio together. Even with all their experience thus far, it was always intense and hard going. Trying to get everything perfect always took up so much time.  
  
The only thing he wasn't looking forward to was the many disagreements that would soon occur over the din of the studio. There would be hours long discussions on the track listings, on the song arrangements, on the album art—even down to the lettering—and the overall concept of the album. Nothing was off limits; everything was up for discussion and was subject to change up until the moment that it was finally finished and released in stores and via the internet.  
  
It was something they had yet to finesse when it came to the band. They were five different personalities inside one entity. A five-headed snarling beast, with twenty limbs and five passionate hearts. It was normal that they would all want to go in different directions, that they would all have differing opinions and create differing sounds. It was all just a matter of trying to take those disordered segments and fitting them together in a more ordered manner that showed off each of their thoughts, feelings, tastes and talents.  
  
It was all a matter of compromise and a matter picking and choosing each battle carefully, making sure to acquiesce to the things that were negligible and putting a foot down to things that couldn't be ignored.  
  
That was band life in a nutshell; a brotherhood that fought and bickered but ultimately put aside their differences to create something noteworthy and real. It was fighting a never-ending battle and never giving up on their firm beliefs and never backing down on the road to greatness, whatever that meant.  
  
It wasn't long before Uruha arrived at the music studio. After turning the engine off, he gathered his nerves into a tight bundle and gripped the steering wheel. He could do this. It wasn't hard. _Just grab your shit and get in there_ , he told himself sternly. Yet, still, he lingered there in his car. Looking like a deer caught in headlights, he stared ahead, unseeing as he tried to tell himself that, _"Aoi won't care about your stupid journal, idiot."_  
  
He groaned and urged himself to move. It was now or never. And maybe if he was lucky, Aoi would arrive late. It had happened once or twice before. It could happen again, right?  
  
_Wrong._ So very wrong.  
  
A gentle tap on the side of his window forced him out of the internal struggle he was going through. He looked up and adjusted his glasses as they threatened to slip down his nose and certainly not for the last time that day, he let out a quiet sigh.  
  
_Oh, great. Perfect, just perfect_ , he groaned to himself. Life clearly didn't want him to have a moment of reprieve. He grabbed his bag from the front seat and moved to get out the car.  
  
_No time like the present_ , he thought as he opened the car door and stepped out with the aim to get it over as fast as possible. The door shut with a bang and he turned to face the man of his simultaneous dreams and nightmares.  
  
"Hey, you okay?" Aoi asked, casting a glance over him. He hoped that Aoi wouldn't notice that he looked almost frazzled and on edge.  
  
Uruha smiled in a restrained manner and adjusted the strap of the bag on his shoulder. He fidgeted for a fraction more before squinting down at Aoi, the morning sun glaring at that moment. _God, please let the air conditioning unit be working today_ , he prayed silently. Summer was nice, the ongoing humidity not so much.  
  
"I- uh... I'm fine," he finally spoke, watching Aoi for any tell that might let him know what was going on behind those confusing eyes.  
  
Aoi smiled, though it didn't quite reach his eyes like it usually did as he toyed with the motorcycle helmet in his hands. Aoi seemed to be guarded around him and it left an unsettled feeling churning inside of Uruha's stomach.  
  
"I brought your journal," he said. His tone too casual and nonchalant. Uruha could tell there was an underlying guilt there. Aoi _had_ read through it after all.  
  
Uruha narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. "Oh, yeah? Did you happen to read anything interesting in it?" he asked, tone calculated and clearly annoyed. He could see through the guise of innocence on Aoi's face and his instincts were proven correct as Aoi glanced away and back up at him.  
  
Aoi's smile was timid now as if he were a child caught doing something naughty. "Uh, I-I liked your drawings of u-us all," he managed to stutter out in embarrassment. "They're really great."  
  
Uruha's resolve almost melted at the completely out of character actions of Aoi. Where was the confident man he was used to? It was weird for Uruha to watch. Seeing how he almost squirmed under Uruha's hardened gaze, watching how he blushed a muted shade of pink and seemed to almost be hiding behind his long hair. For once Uruha felt like he had the upper hand between them. It was a foreign feeling and he wasn't sure that he liked it.  
  
"Is that so? Anything else you want to tell me?" he asked, a little less icy this time.  
  
Aoi nibbled at the part of his lip that used to contain his old piercings. A nervous habit of his, Uruha had noted over the years since Aoi had taken them out. He was clearly trying to hide something from him. "I might have glanced at something else," Aoi finally spoke. When Uruha gave him a look that prompted him to go on, he continued, voice a lot softer, full of concern. "I, uh, I happened to see that entry you'd written on the last page."  
  
"And, what of it?" Uruha was trying to hold back the embarrassment that he was now feeling. Trying to hold himself together because, _oh, God, why?_ Why couldn't Aoi have just ignored it and left it for what it was; a stupid insecure crisis on a crumpled page.  
  
Aoi seemed perplexed now. "Are you okay?"  
  
Uruha rolled his eyes. "Yes, for the last time, I'm fine," he announced. "As for that damn page, I wrote it a while ago. It was a moment of pathetic insecurity. I'm over it, and you should be too—"  
  
"But—" Aoi opened his mouth to say something, however, the look Uruha fixed him with told him to shut his mouth. So he did and allowed Uruha to continue his quiet, bitter tirade.  
  
"After all, it didn't concern you in the first place, now did it?" He felt bad for sounding like a dick but he wanted this exchange to be over with. He was sure he was going to die of embarrassment or something equally hyperbolic.  
  
He wanted to just get into the studio and forget about _everything_. He just wanted to distract himself from all of his dumb emotions and focus on something else completely for as long as he could. He just needed to focus on anything that didn't involve Aoi.  
  
Because despite what he said, those thoughts that were spilt on that page, they really did involve Aoi. Just not in a way that Aoi seemed to understand. Thank goodness for small miracles it seemed. Maybe life was _finally_ beginning to cut him some slack and give him a break?  
  
Aoi worried his lip some more, quiet and calm, processing everything. He sighed softly and relented. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I shouldn't have pried into something I had no business looking at."  
  
Uruha half expected Aoi to fight back and tell him how much he was worth something and how he _wasn't_ what those men had called him in the heat of the moment. Like he did so many times before, building Uruha's confidence back up one broken brick at a time. However, that never came. Instead, Aoi let it slide and pulled the journal from inside the helmet he was holding. He pressed it into Uruha's hands with an apologetic look.  
  
"Sorry. I won't do it again." His tone was reserved yet sincere. And Uruha couldn't help but wish that he would. _Tell me I'm worthy, please_ , he begged silently.  
  
The quiet clunk of Aoi's boots on tarmac seemed to mock the rapid beating in Uruha's chest as Aoi turned away and headed into the building, leaving Uruha alone and feeling cold in the warm sunlight.  
  
Something had changed between them and he wasn't sure what. All he knew was that this was a feeling he was sure he wouldn't be able to get used to, if ever. He sighed and collected the rest of his things from the back of his car and tried to force a smile as bright as the sun despite feeling the cold grip of anxiety clutching at his windpipe and his stomach.  
  
His stomach flipped nervously as he entered the building. This was going to be a long next few months. He wasn't sure if he would be able to survive.


	8. I Really Shouldn't Have

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pain in the ass, mainly because I find it hard trying to write dialogue for more than two people. *sweats* I hope it flowed naturally. Regrettably, I haven't had much practice in writing the rest of the band before...
> 
> So, I have no idea if Short-stack and Zorro's personalities/friendship are in keeping with the view we have of them as people. Anyway, woohoo, banter! Woohoo, Brotuki! See ya in the next chapter hopefully~ :3

Once inside the building, Aoi made a dash for the nearest restroom. He needed somewhere semi-private to gather himself up or melt down, whichever came first, in relative peace. He was embarrassed with and angry at himself. And, if he was honest, a little surprised at how he had reacted to Uruha's words, too. But mostly, he was a stupid idiot.  
  
Of course, Uruha would have reacted that way. Who wouldn't? He had intruded upon something private and there was no way that would be overlooked. Uruha was right, it didn't concern him and he really couldn't fault Uruha for reacting so coldly toward him over it.  
  
If the tables were turned, Aoi would have been unbelievably pissed if someone had done that to him. Except, instead of the quiet, controlled anger Uruha had shown him, he would have been the complete opposite in his feelings. Had it been him in Uruha's shoes, he would have blown up on the perpetrator, loudly and rather aggressively too. That was the difference between Uruha and himself; while Uruha reacted with measured tones, Aoi reacted with blind rage and scathing remarks.  
  
He was lucky he got off so lightly. But that was Uruha in general, always calm and thoughtful, even in his hurt. Even when the situation required him to get mad, he rarely ever did.  
  
Uruha rarely let his temper flare. And even then, when he did, it was so slow to build that it usually dissolved before it had even reached a tipping point. Uruha's fuse was a long one, seemingly endless in its length. He didn't understand how Uruha managed it. In fact, in all the time he'd known Uruha, Aoi had yet to see him truly lose his temper. He was beginning to think that Uruha didn't have a mean bone in his body.  
  
And after knowing him for so long, it seemed completely plausible a thought that verged perhaps on fact.  
  
Despite being shut out by him, Uruha hadn't said anything particularly vicious toward Aoi. He was firm yet reasonable in his annoyance. And while Aoi was upset about being told to butt out of something that he wasn't part of, it was understandable, even to him.  
  
It was the least that he deserved, really, for treading all over a part of their trust and while he figured that Uruha would eventually come to forgive him once the current situation and feelings stirred up had dissipated, this incident would still leave its mark on their friendship.  
  
He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to make it up to Uruha.  
  
Staring at his reflection in the mirror, Aoi resisted the urge to smash his fist into it. He detested what he saw reflected back. Gripping onto the edge of the counter, he tried to even his ragged breathing out. He wasn't sure he could face Uruha, let alone the others, at that moment. Though he knew he would have to suck it up and put his pride aside eventually; he couldn't hide in the bathroom forever.  
  
He sighed heavily. _Already_ things were going wrong. And it was all his fault.  
  
What was supposed to be a stress-free ‘easing back into studio life’ day, had now turned into a stressful, awkward situation that would most likely bleed out and into the rest of the band. And that _always_ made for a pleasant, fun time. With any luck, the others wouldn't realise something was up between himself and Uruha. Or if they did notice something was wrong, they would have the sense to leave them be, that they'd have the sense to resist the urge to pester them both over it.  
  
He really didn't want it to get to the point where Kai would be made to get involved. He didn't want him brought into the fray, didn't want him forced to resume his band leader duties for anything unnecessary if he could help it. Kai was always under so much stress as it was; working so hard to relay information between the band and management, working hard to keep things flowing smoothly and keep morale boosted. He really didn't need any more stressful shit heaped onto his plate.  
  
While he desperately hoped it wouldn't get that far, he had a feeling that it would. Aoi could feel that he was surely going to lose it at some point.  
  
Despite how he didn't want that to be the case, knowing himself as he did, the likelihood of him suffering a mental breakdown was at least seventy percent on any given day. If it wasn't today, it would be some other time, somewhere down the line. Like he had without fail while recording every other album they'd made to date. It was a long-standing joke by now. _"Aoi's going off on one again. Watch out everyone, he's going for the jugular."_  
  
And it was true, as much as he wished it wasn't.  
  
He really was a fucking mess. He was always so easily triggered by all the little things that ended up piling on top of much bigger things. It was always something small that set him on edge before setting him off. He was like a wind-up car, wind him up and watch him go. All over the place, like some kind of car-crash TV. Everything always eventually spiralled out of control and his emotions would always get the best of him in the end.  
  
It was like everything he touched slowly turned to shit in his hands. He wasn't any good to anyone. He wasn't good for anyone.  
  
While people thought that he was a talented rhythm guitarist, they were wrong. He might have been an okay guitarist but his particular talent was being damn _great_ at fucking things up royally and on such grand scales.  
  
He snorted derisively at himself.  
  
He was born a fuck up and would continue on down that path until he found a way to change. Until he figured out how not to mess up time and time again. But after having known nothing else his whole life, he figured that he would never manage to make the transition to someone capable of regulating their emotions and actions. He was too old, too set in his ways. It was probably too late for him now.  
  
Yet, maybe he could try. For better or worse, it was worth a shot, surely? It wasn't like he had much to lose. He'd already lost Uruha, already lost himself. He didn't want to be this person anymore. He didn't recognise the reflection that stared back at him from inside the mirror.  
  
Those eyes were unfamiliar and broken, verging on dull and almost lifeless even. Dark circles under them matched the darkness tucked away inside a sick mind, a sick heart. Dry, chapped lips, bitten and worried, were marked with teeth indents. The tanned skin that stretched across flesh and bone almost resembled washed out leather. This stranger, this shadow of a person didn't resemble anyone that he knew.  
  
Who was this impostor that copied his movements almost mechanically?  
  
He leaned over to turn on a tap and splashed some water on his face in order to clear his mind. As his breathing evened out and his pulse slowly crept back down, he grabbed a paper towel from the dispenser and pressed it to his face. After wiping droplets of water from his skin, he scrunched the paper towel up with more force than was necessary and sighed.  
  
Sagging against the sink, he tried his best to let the tension fall from his body. Now that he was a little calmer, things were a little less cloudy. He stood there for a time, thinking quietly. The more he let his thoughts revolve around his head freely, the more he realised that perhaps it was a good thing he had done what he did. With a new perspective on the situation, he realised that it gave him the perfect excuse to avoid Uruha.  
  
Maybe this was a good thing after all. Maybe he could change after all.  
  
He didn't want to hurt anymore. He didn't want to hurt anyone else more than he had already done. He was getting too old for the mind games he played with himself. It was like playing in traffic; one chicken, two chicken, three chicken, dead on the floor. The road he was currently travelling down led only to a dead end made up of loneliness and a withered heart.  
  
With one last look into the mirror, he recited the affirming words Uruha had written in his journal. "Do your best, Aoi. We'll try to do better on this matter, ne?"  
  
He pushed away from the sink and dropped the crumpled paper towel into the waste bin on the way out of the restroom. With a newfound determination, he walked down the hall and into the studio. After slipping his feet out of his shoes and into a pair of turquoise Crocs that were left there by himself for use in the studio, he dumped his bag and helmet into one of the designated cubbyholes in the small hallway and headed through into the main room.  
  
Upon entering, he noticed Uruha half bent over the coffee table in the middle of the room, muttering to himself under his breath as he sorted through an A4 clear-file folder full of music notation. He was obviously trying to figure out what he was going to bring to the table at their next meeting. From the looks of it, he had a year's worth of material in that damn folder.  
  
Aoi shuddered to think how old some of those compositions were. Uruha was a hoarder of biblical proportions when it came to the songs he wrote. Aoi on the other hand had no problem deleting unused tracks from his iMac's hard drive.  
  
Uruha looked up from his perusal of the pages before him, hand poised mid turn of the page, at the sound of Aoi's Croc-clad feet padding quietly past him and the coffee table. Aoi did his best to ignore the way that Uruha was staring at him with scrutinising eyes, watching his every move.  
  
It wasn't often he was on the receiving end of that look. Well, at least not from Uruha of all people. It felt strange and unnatural to him. Normally Aoi would have been standing at Uruha's side, peering over his shoulder, talking with him quietly and trying to help him come to a decision on what was good and what might not be so great sounding.  
  
But now that he wasn't, it was an unfamiliar feeling and he didn't quite know what to do with himself. He felt unsure and nervous. Sighing, he noted glumly that this was the price he had to pay for being a nosy idiot.  
  
He looked around the studio for a brief second and spotted one of his guitars tucked away in the farthest corner of the room. It was neatly placed against the wall, situated amidst the small, makeshift sanctum he had carved out for himself over the course of a month of infrequent trips to the studio. It was his own quiet space in a room that was soon to be bustling with activity as they eventually began recording their newest album. They each had a respective area, wherein if they sat there, they were never bothered by anyone. It was an unspoken and much respected rule.  
  
Well, much respected unless one’s name happened to be Ruki; he didn’t give a shit about rules—unspoken or otherwise.  
  
Aoi sighed softly, relieved at the familiar sight, and headed over to the guitar. He gently picked it up in his hands and dusted it off carefully with the lower half of his sleeve and walked over to the cosy armchair to his left. He was thankful for the substantial weight of the guitar in his hands. He felt awkward and unnerved by the hawk-like stare Uruha had kept on him the entire time.  
  
Focusing on the guitar, he quietly busied himself with tuning the instrument, hoping that it would occupy him long enough to have him not turn tail and leave the way he entered. He didn't want to be in this situation.  
  
Yet, his mind couldn't help but think that maybe the distance would be good for him. Surely this would only mean good things for the state of his and Masako's relationship? With Uruha pushing him away and locking him out, perhaps he could start to focus more on the woman that loved him deeply. And with that thought, came the reminder of the promise he had made to himself, and by extension, Masako.  
  
Now that he was looking at it differently, he realised that everything about the current situation was a stark reminder that Uruha wasn't meant to be in his future as anything other than a _friend_ , pure and simple. The sooner he realised and got used to that, the better. As much as the thought cut like sharp, jagged glass on skin, deep down he knew it was for the best.  
  
They all deserved peace from the destructive emotions that Aoi held back within himself at all times. He was tired of trying to be something he was not and would never be; Uruha would never want him that way.  
  
Aoi bit his lip and chanced a look upwards. He immediately regretted it when Uruha's intense eyes caught him mid-stare. He suppressed the urge to shiver. Despite the warm air of the studio, he felt anything but. Ducking his head, he began to focus on his guitar once more; unable to take the piercing look he was met with.  
  
Thankfully, the palpable tension was interrupted by the sound of the studio door creaking open as one of their technicians popped his head into the room. "Sorry to interrupt, guys," he spoke in a soft voice and bowed politely to the both of them, before directing his attention solely toward Uruha. "Uruha-san, can I borrow you for a second, perhaps? Those pickups you ordered finally arrived."  
  
At the mention of new pickups, Uruha's eyes widened from a frigid stare to a look of quiet excitement. He quickly closed his folder, stood up straight and moved away from the coffee table. "Sure, no problem," Uruha spoke easily, free of the ice from earlier. "Thank you for letting me know, Inaba-san." After returning the polite bow, Uruha abandoned his previous task and with a short glance back at Aoi, he followed the technician out of the room.  
  
Aoi let out the breath he hadn't realised he was holding in and deflated as soon as the door shut behind Uruha. He sank into the armchair, almost melting into it with relief, and loosened the grip on his guitar. Letting his head fall backwards onto the headrest of the chair, he stared up at the ceiling and wondered if this was the way it would be from now on between them. He hoped that they could keep it cordial between them, or if that wasn't possible, at the very least, civilised, while they were forced to be in the cramped confines of the studio.  
  
"You look about as bad as I feel," a smooth voice spoke from near the doorway, forcing Aoi from his pondering.  
  
He hadn't even heard the other man enter the room. Jesus, he was more out of it than he thought.  
  
Straightening up in his seat a little, his head lolled forward from its resting position and he gripped his guitar a little tighter. He stared blankly at the bassist leaning against the wall, to the left of the door and let a disgruntled noise slip from his mouth. "Thanks," he responded in a sarcastic tone. "I haven't had any coffee, yet." And boy did he need it, he was already tired from the mess of emotions he was feeling. His body was craving a caffeine boost badly.  
  
"That's not like you, dude," Reita replied quietly and raised a concerned eyebrow at Aoi. He pushed away from the wall in favour of sitting on the old, but still comfy, sofa of the studio. Flopping down onto it, he kicked his feet up onto the coffee table in front of him and gingerly nudged Uruha's folder out of the way slightly with a slipper-clad foot. Crossing his legs and folding his arms loosely, Reita relaxed into the couch.  
  
Aoi shook his head in a motion of no and suppressed the urge to yawn. Fingers curling reflexively around the neck of the guitar, he ran a hand up and down it in a self-soothing manner, producing gentle, metallic sounds from it. He probably shouldn't have stayed up into the wee hours of the morning but what with sleep not coming to him, at least he had passed the time wisely by being rather productive on the music front.  
  
"Between staying up late composing songs, almost sleeping in, and having to drop Masako off at work before coming here, I was running on autopilot," he reasoned with a shrug.  
  
Reita's eyes widened. "No wonder you look like shit," he responded, a little shocked by the notion that Aoi, the king of coffee, had yet to have his morning fix. Which then led him to wonder, if he hadn't had coffee, "Have you even had breakfast yet? At least tell me Masako offered to feed you?"  
  
"No, and she did," Aoi began, coming to her defence because she was thoughtful enough to ask him. "We just didn't have the time for her to make something substantial for me, so I told her I'd get something later," he finished rather forlornly, all the while thinking about Masako's cooking and how it was _almost_ as good as the home comfort of his mother's. There was nothing quite like starting the day with a delicious, nutritious breakfast in his belly and a strong coffee in his hand.  
  
Reita narrowed his eyes. Even with that explanation, Aoi could tell that Reita knew there was still something else off about him. Reita was like a dog with a bone sometimes. If he caught a whiff of something not quite right, he was loathe to give up until the truth was uncovered. And right now, Aoi knew that Reita could tell there was something else niggling away at him; whether it was from the way he was holding his guitar as if it were the only thing keeping him in place and present, or some other tell, Aoi wasn't sure. But now that Reita's penetrating gaze was on him full force, openly staring at him and studying his outward appearance, he tried to play it cool.  
  
Utlimately, his body language betrayed him and Reita smirked. Between tired eyes, an almost gaunt face and the tight-lipped grimace he wore, and the way he was holding himself almost inwardly, it all worked against him to tell Reita an altogether different story. Catching sight of his reflection on black gloss, he realised how completely closed off and defensive he came across, if not a little on edge looking, too—like he was on the verge of spiralling down into the depths of despair.  
  
"That's all well and good, but what aren't you telling me?"  
  
Aoi rolled his eyes and huffed. _Well, so much for not getting into it_ , he thought. There was probably no point in lying, it didn't seem like his friend was going to allow it to slide any time soon. He shrugged. "Nothing, Uruha and I just had a disagreement is all," he replied tersely. "No big deal, really." As much as he tried to sound like he wasn't affected, as much as he tried to sound convincing, he knew that Reita didn't believe him.  
  
Reita failed to suppress a snort and shook his head, clearly amused. "Yeah, because you and Uruha fight _all_ the time. What happened?"  
  
Okay, so maybe Reita had a point, maybe he was right. It was rare that he and Uruha ever fought, let alone fell out. But Aoi wasn't going to be the one to tell that to him. Reita didn't need any more gloating rights or ego boosts, he had enough of them held over Aoi's head from past conversations. Aoi pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. "Nothing—"  
  
A whirl of designer fabric and strong cologne waltzed into the room confidently and cut him off mid-sentence. "Nothin' what?"  
  
_Fucking great_ , he groaned internally and suppressed the urge to smash his head into a wall. "None of your business, Ruki," he bit out and revelled as Ruki glared at him harmlessly.  
  
Ruki plopped down next to Reita on the couch and draped his legs over Reita's thighs. "Bit touchy today that one is, ain't he?" Ruki stated, inclining his head in Aoi's direction while nudging an elbow into Reita's side conspiratorially. "I just wanted to know what you were talkin' about with Noseless Wonder here."  
  
Reita stared at Ruki pointedly and dug a bony knuckle into the back of his knee. "If you insist on referring to me with a superhero moniker, at least refer to me as the one I'd actually go by: _Cease and Bassist._ "  
  
Ruki snorted, while Aoi chose to roll his eyes at Reita’s pun.  
  
A moment later Aoi scoffed at the both of them as he watched them bicker between themselves and sat up straight in his seat again. After placing his guitar carefully to lean against the side of it, he turned back to Ruki and fixed him with a wry look. "We both know that you're not interested in this for any other reason than to find out if it's something you can later use to torture me with, _Ru-chan_ ," Aoi replied dryly.  
  
Ruki sniggered and went about pulling a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his woollen cardigan. "Touché, _Aoi-chan._ You would be right." He smiled brazenly at Aoi, before softly prodding Reita in the side once more and blinked up at him in an overly cute way. The band hated that look, it was like butter wouldn't melt. They were all pretty sure that should Ruki ever find himself winding up in court on a murder charge, he would get off scot-free based on a bat of his eyelashes and that look alone. "You got a light? I left mine at home apparently."  
  
“Apparently?” Reita snorted and felt around his body for a few seconds before he finally procured a cheap purple lighter from his back pocket. Upon handing it over to Ruki, he automatically answered the question Ruki was about to pose. "And yes, you can keep it. It's not like I need it, I just keep it on me out of old habit."  
  
Ruki grinned. “Thanks, arsonist.”  
  
It was weird how both Ruki and Reita had an uncanny ability to just know what the other was thinking, like there was some kind of unspoken bond between them. It was as if they spoke a language that only they understood. They hit it off from day one and ever since had been such close friends, literally and figuratively. They were always off in some corner of the room conspiring, bumping shoulders during photo shoots, or just goofing around in general.  
  
They thrived on the close proximity of their friendship and fed off each other's energy, egging each other on while simultaneously looking out for one another. If Ruki couldn't stand on his own two feet at the end of a live, Reita would instantly be there at his side helping him to stand, by allowing Ruki to lean on him. If Reita broke down in tears, unable to keep his sentimental self together, Ruki would be there to offer comfort and a shoulder for Reita to hide his tears in.  
  
Theirs was a friendship that ran deep. They balanced each other out almost too well. Aoi couldn't help but to feel a little bit jealous of them. He wished that he shared a connection as profound as theirs with Uruha, even if it was only ever as friends.  
  
Shaking his head, Aoi allowed the thoughts in his head to die. Thinking like that wasn't really helping his current mood state.  
  
After lighting his cigarette, Ruki dropped his pack of cigarettes, along with his new lighter, onto the table and he pointed his cigarette-laden hand in the direction of Uruha's compositions and asked in a manner that was curious, "Is that what I think it is?"  
  
"It is, and I wouldn't," Aoi responded blankly from his chair. "He already bit my head off about prying through things that weren't mine."  
  
He realised a little too late what he had said and instantly regretted opening his mouth. Reita smirked. "So, _that's_ what your disagreement was about, huh?"  
  
Ruki forgot all about the folder then and turned his attention to Reita and Aoi. "What was what about?"  
  
He could already see Reita was taking just a little too much pleasure in this brand new information. Aoi bristled quietly, ready for the barrage of torment that he was sure to face. "Well, you see," Reita began, "Before you sauntered in, Aoi and I were discussing why he and Uruha aren't on speaking terms right now."  
  
Aoi resisted the urge to roll his eyes and huff. Instead he resigned himself to his fate and waited for the world to swallow him up. Perhaps this was karma for all the times he had teased Reita rather relentlessly on and off stage and joked about threatening to release a bunch of drunk, noseband-less photos of him to the fans.  
  
"Really?" Ruki was in complete awe. He turned to Aoi, and asked him a simple question. "What exactly did you happen to pry into?"  
  
Well, him and his big mouth were already in this deep, he might as well get it over with. Shrugging, he tried to make his tone sound as nonchalant as possible. "I came across that journal of his and I read it when I really shouldn't have," he told them simply, in the hope that they would drop it because they weren't getting the desired reaction from him.  
  
When he put it like that, it really didn't sound like such a big deal but Aoi knew that he'd hurt Uruha deeply with his actions. He felt guilty but tried to play everything off as if it really wasn't a huge thing. He didn't want them to blow it out of proportion or drag Uruha into it, too. He'd already hurt him, he didn't need Uruha to be reminded of that.  
  
"Dude," Reita breathed out. "Do you know how long I've tried to get that thing on its own? I bet he has some sordid shit in there, he's such a weirdo. He probably has all his alien conspiracy theories in there, too. He's such a nerd." Spoken like a true best friend.  
  
Aoi snorted. "Calm down there, Bird-boy. It wasn't that juicy. Nor was it that cringe-worthy."  
  
"Knowing Uru, it was full of guitar phrases and a record of his highest scores on all the dumb video games you guys play together," Ruki pondered aloud.  
  
Aoi raised an eyebrow and tried not to laugh at Ruki's near dead-on description of the journal contents and his insight into Uruha's personality. "Something along those lines."  
  
Ruki smirked. "I knew it," he gloated quietly and turned to Reita. "Looks like you owe me season seven of 24 on box set."  
  
Aoi's eyebrows shot up into his hairline and his mouth gaped open. "Y-you guys had a bet going on what was in his journal?"  
  
"Yeah," Reita replied easily, unfazed by Aoi's reaction. "Since about three years ago when he started writing in it the day he got it."  
  
"I didn't even know he had one until yesterday," Aoi told them. He couldn't help the resentful tinge to his words.  
  
How hadn't he noticed that Uruha, one of his most important friends even, had a journal until yesterday. He felt out of loop. He felt like he should have known or at least seen Uruha write in it, surely? They were around each other a lot, sometimes bordering on twenty four-seven. Surely that was the kind of things best friends noticed about each other, right?  
  
He sighed softly and tried to ignore the thought that maybe Uruha _hadn't_ wanted him to know about his journaling habit. If that was the case, what the hell had he written in it that he didn't want him to see? Aoi grumbled to himself and tried to ignore the sneaking suspicion that maybe there was something in there that he _hadn't_ noticed that might have been about him.  
  
Perhaps that was why Uruha was especially pissed off? Because aside from the last page, he hadn't really seen anything incredibly noteworthy in his brief glance at the pages the journal contained. He sighed. He would forever have to remain in the dark on that train of thought as his only chance to read it properly was now long gone. He would most likely never see that journal again.  
  
Aoi shook his head and focused on listening to Ruki and Reita discussing why Reita had to buy him a DVD box set of 24 in a bid to clear his mind of nagging curiosity and disappointment.  
  
"No," Reita told Ruki firmly. "We never agreed on that. You said I could have your Sex Pistols hoodie, if you could have my leather jacket with the patches on it."  
  
Ruki rolled his eyes. "That was a verbal agreement made _years_ ago. It wasn't even official, anyway, because it wasn't written on paper," Ruki reasoned.  
  
Reita grumbled and pushed Ruki's legs off his lap in protest. "You can't just change our terms of agreement, that's unfair."  
  
"Life's unfair," Ruki responded plainly. "Besides, it's not like you wouldn't have done the same. You don't even _need_ that hoodie anymore, you bought one with your own money eventually anyhow."  
  
Reita huffed. From the way he spoke to how he sat, arms crossed and a frown on his face, Reita’s feathers were severely ruffled. "But-but—," he spluttered. "That's not even the point."  
  
"Whatever, you're gonna buy it for me and we'll watch it together, okay?" Ruki stated, leaving no room for argument. Though the latter part of his statement did help to smooth some of Reita's indignation.  
  
Reita's body began shaking with laughter as he tried to conceal it behind a hand. Neither Aoi nor Ruki seemed to understand what was so funny. A few seconds later, Reita finally calmed down enough for him to fill them both in on the joke. "Why the fuck didn't you just _say_ you wanted to hang out? You're an idiot, Ru," he spoke, voice full of fond amusement.  
  
Aoi smiled at the way Reita nudged Ruki with his shoulder and watched the way Ruki almost fell over himself trying to cover up his surprise at how well Reita knew him. Their friendship, while it inspired feelings of envy in Aoi, was so completely endearing to him.  
  
They talked amongst themselves quietly, Aoi occasionally finding himself the butt of their jokes, while they waited for Uruha to return and Kai to show up. Aoi learned from Ruki that their drummer was late on account of a meeting with their management. Something to do with their scheduled studio time and the fact that there was an administration error that needed to be ironed out.  
  
Luckily, for the rest of the band, Kai lived for that sort of thing; it was why he was the band leader after all. He was always buzzing with restless energy and always on the go, ready to jump into action. Excellent interpersonal skills and a great diplomat, Kai was firm yet fair. Always able to work out solutions to problems that cropped up on a daily basis and good at retaining and relaying information well, he knew how to get results and how to spin things in the band's favour when necessary.  
  
And while the title of band leader was a position thrust upon him when no one else had been willing to accept the responsibility, Kai took it all in stride. He took pride in his work and made sure that he did his job well, ensuring that he left no room for complaint from anyone. Not that anyone _would_ voice their complaint, at least not on a serious level. Aoi shuddered. When Kai wasn't smiling with his eyes or mouth, he could be really scary looking. Almost resembling an angry gorilla, certainly not someone to be messed with on his more stern days.  
  
Resting in his armchair, Aoi curled up into himself and was content to just listen to Reita and Ruki chat about various things. Occasionally he would be prompted to respond, and so he did, before going back to his tired stupor.  
  
Soon enough, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, he eventually dropped over the precipice and off into a dreamless sleep. His last thought before unconsciousness claimed him, being along the lines of, _I hope they don't draw a dick on my face._


	9. Peace Offering Of Sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild jar of Mayonnaise appeared! Mayonnaise used Leader Voice. It wasn't very effective. What will Brotuki do next? Brotuki used Double Trouble. It was super-effective.  
>    
>  I'd just like to take the time to say thank you to those who have stuck with this story so far. It really means a lot to me. ♥  
>    
> 

Uruha groaned as he walked back into the studio. He was irritated but more so exasperated after having spent the last fifteen minutes on the phone explaining, to a rather dimwitted customer service representative, that his order was incorrect before they finally transferred him over to someone else more capable of fixing the problem. Instead of receiving six humbuckers and three single coil pickups, the company he bought them through had messed up his order and reversed his desired amounts so that he was now left with _six_ single coils and only _three_ humbuckers.  
  
While that would have worked for some of his guitars’ pickup arrangements, it wasn’t any good to him in this particular case. The pickups he ordered were for three of his prized guitars that required replacements of their H-H-S configurations before recording started. So, three humbuckers weren’t exactly going to cut it.  
  
Eventually, they had come to an agreement. Due it being a mistake made on their side, they would cover the costs of sending out a new, this time complete, order along with the onus that he could keep the previous one too. Well, it also helped that the second customer service representative he was put through to realised who he was talking to upon looking up Uruha’s account and order details, in order to have the answers to some security questions confirmed.  
  
It wasn’t often that he named dropped to get things done in a self-serving manner but it was kind of important. They wouldn’t be able to start his side of recording without the new pickups in place.  
  
As the door opened and closed behind him, Uruha’s eyes were met with the sight of Aoi curled up in his armchair, looking incredibly vulnerable while he slept, while his ears were accosted by the sound of Ruki’s blunt voice.  
  
“What’s up with your face?” Ruki asked from where he was sat, practically attached at the hip to Reita.  
  
Uruha frowned and sighed. It wasn’t the end of the world but it was still a minor inconvenience. “You know those DiMarzio and Seymour Duncan pickups I ordered? The website I got ’em from screwed up my original order. They’re gonna express ship a new one so they’ll be here tomorrow at some point,” he said, voice a quiet timbre, aware that Aoi was sleeping.  
  
Ruki, on the other hand, didn't seem to care that their rhythm guitarist had fallen asleep. As such, he was clearly not bothered that his jarring voice might disturb Aoi. “See, I told you to get them from a more reputable source, Uru.”  
  
The manner in which Ruki spoke to him simultaneously made Uruha feel like he was being told off and talked down to; the latter of which was funny because Ruki was only ever able to talk up to people on account of his short stature. Uruha bit his lip and refused to laugh at that potshot and settled on rolling his eyes instead.  
  
Ruki frowned at him and Uruha took it for what it was: a clear warning for him to take his advice more seriously. “Next time you should just get Hamada-san to do it for you. He has so many connections, it’s crazy.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Uruha replied in a monotonous manner. He was weary already and it wasn’t even mid-morning yet. Today was going to be hard, he could tell. “We can’t all be as smart you now can we, Ruki? If we were, you’d be out of a job as a lyricist.”  
  
There was no bite in his words but the wince that Ruki sent his way told him that he was being a tad too harsh to his friend. He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, I’m just…” He trailed off and shrugged, feeling helpless and lost. “I shouldn’t take my mood swings out on you guys.”  
  
Ruki nodded and shrugged in response. The movements were somewhat awkward, jerky even, and Uruha was somehow reminded of a pigeon. “It’s fine, I know you didn’t mean it.” Ruki’s eyes were gentle and forgiving, and the smile he graced Uruha with was soft and warm under the dull studio lighting. “Don’t worry about it, Uru. We all have our good and bad days, eh?”  
  
Uruha nodded and was relieved to find nothing but calm understanding behind deep brown eyes. No hard feelings. Just acceptance and love.  
  
Sometimes he wished that Aoi looked at him with such clarity and honesty. As it was, Aoi didn’t really give him much to go on most days. His dark eyes, almost jet under certain light, were always so enigmatic and vague. Even when they swirled heavy with emotion, he could never really understand Aoi fully. The answers to all his questions could be staring him straight in the face for all he knew and he still would never know.  
  
“At least you have all those spares now though.” Reita’s voice interrupting his train of thought was a quiet blessing as he added his two cents to the conversation. “If you went with Hamada-san, you wouldn’t have a bunch of free stuff, which is always handy,” he said as he shifted on the sofa and forced Ruki to budge up a little bit to allow Uruha space to sit down.  
  
Noticing how they’d created enough room for him, Uruha took them up on the silent offer and perched precariously on the edge of the sofa. He found himself staring at Aoi for a moment before he looked away, eyes fixed on the table in front of him. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right,” Uruha said, thankful for Reita’s never-wavering positivity. Kai may have been the band’s smiling ball of sunshine but Reita… Well, Reita was and had always been there with his jokes and puns, and his never-ending optimistic outlook on life.  
  
Some days it could get annoying but then again, they wouldn’t have him any other way. He was their best friend first and foremost, though him being their band’s bassist came a close second. There was a reason he was the most liked out of all the band and there was a reason that everyone gravitated toward him at gatherings. He practically oozed warmth and light out of his dorky smile and gentle brown eyes. From the minute Uruha had met Reita—a few inches shorter than him, sporting a buzzcut and tanned to hell—he had always been like that, carefree and happy.  
  
Between the dumb impressions of molluscs he did as a kid (he was quite the contortionist at one point in his life) to the days when they were starving artists and Uruha was almost ready to give up on his (and conversely, Reita’s) dream; without fail, Reita had always been the positive influence in Uruha’s life, always there to cast a light upon the darkest moments in his life.  
  
Uruha smiled and leaned back in order to bump a shoulder into Reita’s. They shared a look that only friends of over fifteen years could and while Reita might not have known what Uruha was going through, he knew that Reita had understood that he was thankful for something on a deeper level. Reita smiled and shrugged, choosing to remain silent. Though it didn't stop him hearing the ghost of Reita’s voice in the back of his head telling him, _“Anytime, nerd.”_  
  
Uruha slumped lax against Reita’s side and for a small fraction of time, he felt almost sorry for his best friend. He didn’t look so comfortable sandwiched in between Ruki and him but that thought was dismissed after only a moment. The look on Reita’s face was one of pure bliss. He was content to be everyone’s chair—pillow—rock—whatever was needed of him.  
  
Smiling softly, Uruha realised that perhaps Reita hadn’t really lost that ability to contort his body into weird shapes after all. He was still completely flexible in what he could change into for people, dependant on the situation.  
  
Lost in his thoughts, he was content to leave the idle conversation to Reita and Ruki. They seemed to understand that he needed some space despite his close proximity to them both. Sometimes the fact they’d known each other for the longest time was a good thing. Other times it was troublesome and annoying. Though in this case, it came as a mixed blessing. While he was glad they knew him so well, it was a deflating reminder that he and Aoi, as close as they were, weren’t close enough to know all there was to know about each other.  
  
By now, it was an almost unconscious habit for his mind to wander and board a train of thought that stationed in dangerous territory: Aoi. Uruha found his gaze sliding over Aoi’s sleeping form from across the room. He slept near soundly, aside from the occasional soft snore and adorable scrunch of his nose as hair tickled his face.  
  
Unable to help himself, Uruha stared at Aoi in fascination, memorising everything that was displayed before him. He looked exhausted.  
  
It made him think that perhaps he shouldn’t have been so hard on him earlier on in the morning. Letting out a withering sigh, Uruha turned his head away and cast his vision down to stare at his hands instead. He didn’t know what to do.  
  
He was torn and in two minds on what to do about the situation between them. While part of him wanted to forgive Aoi without a second’s thought, the other more logical side of him realised that Aoi had in fact trudged over a part of the trust that had been built up between them and in doing so, he had actually done something deserving of punishment.  
  
It seemed that even Aoi knew he’d messed up.  
  
It was strange to see Aoi give in to his words so easily. He wasn’t usually one to concede so quickly. Uruha half expected an outburst or even an explanation of how and why he hadn’t done anything wrong but nothing of the sort had come from Aoi’s mouth. Instead, Aoi had responded in a meek manner and that was about it. He’d agreed that he was in the wrong and even promised to never do it again but it still didn’t make any sense to Uruha.  
  
While it was true that they rarely fought, he still expected some sort of reaction from him. It was unlike Aoi not to say something, unlike him not to defend himself even if he was in the wrong. He was emotional and temperamental, known to fly off the handle randomly at times…  
  
So why hadn’t he done the same with Uruha? Why did it feel like that this wasn’t so much a fight, as it was Aoi giving up on him? Uruha couldn’t help but think that, somehow, something between them had ended. He expected bark and bite. What he got was… submissive and out of character.  
  
Aoi was in the wrong here, there was no denying that. So why then, did it feel like the only one being punished was Uruha himself?  
  
Uruha’s stomach churned from anxiety as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. Life, it seemed, was trying its best to mock him at every turn. While Aoi was sleeping curled up in his favourite armchair across from him, rather unaffected by what had transpired between them at that moment, Uruha wasn’t so lucky. He shifted to sit on the edge of the sofa that sagged under the weight of their bodies and Uruha’s thoughts and feelings combined. He felt much like a sack of potatoes, heavy and weighed down by all the things he didn’t understand.  
  
One thing he did understand though, was that Aoi had finally wiped his hands of him. It was obvious that Aoi didn’t want anything more to do with him or his fucked up relationships. He had left the situation in such a hurried, abrupt manner and while Uruha didn’t understand exactly what he’d done to Aoi to be deserving of that treatment, somehow he couldn’t blame him for feeling that way toward him.  
  
On the whole, he felt left out of the loop; left out of something important but he had no idea what that was and Aoi wasn’t likely to tell him anytime soon.  
  
He wanted nothing more than to be the one to rouse Aoi from his dreams with a gentle kiss pressed upon his temple, wanted nothing more than to just _tell_ him all this but he knew it wasn’t fair, nor right, of him to do that to Aoi. The more he thought about it, the noose that hung over his shoulders and draped around his neck, ready to strangle him at a moment’s notice, burned into his skin. It was best he stop thinking, stop feeling. Maybe he would be granted that wish one day.  
  
For he certainly wouldn’t be granted the privilege of being able to call Aoi anything other than his friend. Nor would he ever be allowed to act out upon his true feelings.  
  
“What’s got you looking so glum, ’ruha?” Ruki’s question hit him head on like a truck full speed. “I refuse to believe that you are _that_ upset over some damn pickups.”  
  
Uruha blinked in confusion, startled out of his mind, and looked up from his hands to stare at Ruki. “Bwuh? Wha-huh—what?” He imagined himself to look like a threatened pufferfish, puffed up in surprise, wide-eyed yet slightly vacant.  
  
“What happened? You look like someone dropkicked Koron out of a window,” Ruki said and stared at Uruha with pointed interest.  
  
Reita raised an eyebrow, perplexed by Ruki’s choice of wording. “Who the hell would kick Koron out the window and why would you use your own dog in that of all analogies?”  
  
“Koron doesn’t care. He’s at home happily chowing down on his dog bowl, probably,” Ruki responded with a huff and a roll of his eyes. “Anyway, back to my original question. Care to explain, Uru?”  
  
Uruha baulked. What was there to say? _I think my crush hates me and wants nothing to do with me because I got upset that he read my journal?_  
  
He cringed on the inside, embarrassed to hell. When put like that, it sounded like a lame plot from some badly written episode of a television drama. He could see that going down particularly well between his close friends. Nibbling on his lower lip, Uruha twisted his fingers together in anxious habit as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say. “I… Me and Aoi… Well, we, uh, fight.”  
  
_Well done, Uruha. Grade A use of words, your Japanese teacher is rolling in her grave right now,_ Uruha scolded himself.  
  
“Now, ’ruha, what have we talked about, use your words, remember?” Ruki’s teasing was rewarded with a soft punch to the arm from Reita. The latter looked concerned for him and Uruha appreciated the sentiment, as well as the punch—though in his opinion it could have done with being a little bit harder.  
  
“You can tell us, Uru.” Reita’s voice was soft and sincere, probing but not altogether invasive. Instead, it came across attentive and worried, patient as he waited, ready to listen without judgement.  
  
“I… Well, I… How do I tell y—You’ll laugh at me.” Uruha didn’t really know what to say, let alone where to start. He just knew that if he told them, he would be the laughing stock of the band for the day or next month.  
  
“Nah, we already laughed enough at Aoi’s expense when he—” Ruki’s amused look soon turned into a gasp of horror and his eyes went wide as Reita elbowed him in the side.  
  
Uruha frowned, unsure as to why the hell they were acting like idiots for. Not that it wasn’t a normal occurrence. It was just… weirder than normal.  
  
“You weren’t supposed to say anything, you idiot!” Reita whispered, words laced with panic, before he clamped his hands over his mouth. Uruha could just make out the muffled “Crap” from behind cupped hands.  
  
“What… do you mean by that?” Uruha said with narrowed eyes. It took him a moment but realisation soon dawned upon him and he understood what had transpired. “Oh, so Aoi told you about our disagreement then? _Great._ ” He couldn’t help sounding disappointed. He hoped it wouldn’t have got out so soon but, well, nothing could be done about it now and there was certainly no point in getting mad—he’d done enough of that already so far, caused enough damage between Aoi and himself as it was.  
  
“It’s not like he meant to tell us. He was just tired and not paying attention,” Reita said, trying to ease the situation. “We’re not gonna make fun of _you_ for it. Like Ruki said, we already mocked Aoi enough as it is—”  
  
“Yeah, he’s asleep anyway. You can bitch at us about him if you want. Give us the deets, Uru,” Ruki interrupted, staring at him with such rapt attention that Uruha began to feel like an alien species atop a lab table awaiting dissection. “Why were you so upset?”  
  
Uruha sighed and rubbed his face in frustration. He wasn’t sure if the incessant buzzing in his head at that moment was caused by the occasional, annoying tinnitus he suffered from or if it was purely Ruki’s voice alone. Now that he thought about it… Ruki was like a little materialistic mosquito; sucking time, patience, money and life out of people at an alarming rate sometimes.  
  
“The only _deets_ you deserve come in the form of insect repellent, Ru,” he bit out, though his words lacked any real anger. He was bitter and quiet in his resignation at the idea that they probably knew more about Aoi’s thought processes than he did. He sighed and shrugged. “You probably got all of the details from Aoi anyway, so what would be the point in talking about it?”  
  
“Now, now, Uru, there’s no need for you to be like that. There’s always a point in talking about things,” Ruki said, tone soft as he realised he’d touched a nerve. Obviously, he’d chosen to ignore the lacklustre insult thrown his way, perhaps for the fact that it wasn’t a real insult at all; just simple observation and truth—Ruki was annoying in a lot of ways. “Besides, there are always two sides to every story,” Ruki added as an afterthought with the tenacity of a chihuahua. Clearly, he wasn't ready to drop the subject.  
  
Uruha wanted to laugh bitterly at Ruki’s words but thought better of it. Instead, he pursed his lips and frowned. There was always two sides to every story, he was living proof of that. The stirrings of sadness settled in Uruha's heart and he sighed. He had no idea what part Aoi’s side in everything played, knew nothing of it. Always left guessing, Uruha was unsure in everything that pertained to him.  
  
“I’d rather not diss him when he’s sleeping right across from us. In fact, I’d rather not diss him at all. You and I know what he did, and he knows he did wrong and that’s all there is to it,” Uruha said in a clipped tone. He was beginning to get annoyed.  
  
Reita silenced Ruki with a look that told him to shut up before he turned to Uruha, pinning him with an imploring stare. “Look, Shima, if you don’t wanna talk about it that’s fine,” he said. “But, if you want to, without _someone_ making it sound like some salacious story, we can talk about it over drinks later, yeah?” Reita was always so gentle, there was never any pressure from him to be a certain way or say a certain thing. It was Uruha’s choice, and for that he was thankful.  
  
Always a mediator when Kai wasn’t around, Reita had ensured that the subject was dropped for Uruha’s benefit and in turn, Ruki found his attention begrudgingly turning to the file of music notation lying on the coffee table.  
  
Ruki busied himself with lighting up a new cigarette and motioned to Uruha. “You said you have presents for me?” he asked in a meek voice while looking as cute and as small as possible. It was almost like he was trying to pacify some of the irritation that Uruha harboured toward him.  
  
And it worked. Uruha couldn’t help but forgive him all too easily. “Oh, y-yeah, I brought a few compositions I’ve been working on. I need your opinion on one specifically. It started off as mine but… Then it kind of grew, with Aoi’s help, into a monster.”  
  
Ruki perked up at the idea of being able to pick apart Uruha’s brain and give his thoughts on the song in return. “Mind if I take them home to go over and I can discuss it with you in depth tomorrow before the band meeting or something?” Ruki said in a hopeful manner.  
  
“Yeah, sure. I marked the ones I was planning on bringing to the meeting, but the one with an orange sticky note is the most important though,” Uruha responded, nervous of Ruki’s opinion. He wanted it to be good. Despite Aoi and their fight, the song meant a lot to him. Nothing would change that.  
  
Ruki bobbed his head in understanding while the cigarette dangling precariously from his mouth threatened to burn a hole in the ugly, green sofa as ash built up on the end. From his spot between them both, Reita piped up, “Yo, ashtray, before Ruki starts a fire.”  
  
Uruha leaned over to grab the lone ashtray from the coffee table and held it near to Ruki’s mouth. Ruki grinned lazily and tapped off the excess ash into it. Couch and one friendship saved for the day, two probable major crises averted; Reita cracked his knuckles and sat back happy once more—his work here, for the time being, was done.  
  
It wasn’t long after that when the door to the studio pushed open and a frazzled looking drummer almost fell through it. “Shit,” he mumbled, stumbling as he tried to kick a shoe off his foot. “Hey, guys!” His smile was bright, even though they could tell he was obviously tired.  
  
“Hey, loser,” Ruki responded on their behalves. “You… look like you’re about to collapse?”  
  
Kai grinned and blew some hair out of his face. “Nothing unusual there then, huh?” he said and promptly frowned thereafter when he noticed Aoi off in the corner. “Why’s he asleep?” he asked with mild concern.  
  
Reita shrugged. “He didn’t get much sleep and hasn’t had his breakfast.”  
  
Uruha coughed and Ruki averted his eyes. Kai looked oblivious. And oblivious he would remain. He didn’t need to know of Uruha and Aoi’s problems. “Has he had his morning coffee yet?”  
  
“Nope,” Reita confirmed.  
  
“Well, is someone gonna wake him up?” Kai asked no one in particular.  
  
Ruki snorted. “Be our guest.”  
  
Kai sighed in resignation and took the hint. A second later he laid a gentle, yet firm, hand upon Aoi’s shoulder and shook it enough to cause Aoi to stir. He whispered in a hushed tone, trying to wake Aoi without startling him. “Hey, Aoi, wake up.”  
  
He received a grunt and huff but was otherwise met with radio silence. He tried again and got the same result. “Guys, some help?”  
  
Uruha tried to ignore the feeling churning inside his gut—guilt and regret mixed with anxiety to create a toxic cycle of self-doubt and blame. All of a sudden he felt like he was a teenager again. Going through familiar notion of old and unhealthy thought patterns that were once buried deep. He struggled to compose himself and keep his breathing under control.  
  
Reita and Ruki laughed at Kai’s misfortune. “Nah, you’re on your own, Leader-san,” they said in unison.  
  
Kai gave Uruha a helpless look. “Uru?” he pleaded.  
  
He didn’t want to wake Aoi. He didn’t want to deal with anything at that moment. He just wanted to get drunk and forget everything for a time. Sadly, he was an adult and sadly, life frequently chose not to work out the way he wanted it to go.  
  
Uruha took a calming breath and let it out slowly. “Fine, fine. I’ll go get him some coffee,” he said and made a move to get up. He might have been annoyed with Aoi but it didn’t mean he had to be cruel to him. Besides, he could use a drink himself, if he was honest. Though, perhaps something less caffeinated. Anxiety was a bitch and he didn’t need to add to it.  
  
At that Kai perked up and left Aoi in his chair for the time being. “Thanks, Uru, I appreciate it,” Kai told him.  
  
Uruha gave him a stiff smile and stood up. His body felt tense and his hands felt cold, and his head hurt. He looked forward to the moment his hand would be wrapped around a cool glass of beer later that night. Hopefully, he could unwind and drop a load of his baggage on Reita. They hadn’t hung out for such a long while, and it certainly wasn’t because of Asami as much as Reita had joked about it being the case earlier on that morning.  
  
With a last glance at Aoi, Uruha left them all to it and once again found himself in the hallway, this time heading along it in search of the faithful vending machines that stood vigilant, always there for them at whatever o’clock; when the midnight fugue kicked in and they were working like mindless zombies, unable to form coherent sentences, let alone chord progressions.  
  
Uruha stifled a yawn as his feet guided him on autopilot.  
  
After walking down the hallway for a short time, he came to an abrupt stop in front of the nearest one. Feeling a little less stressed now that he had put some distance between himself and a soon to be awake Aoi, Uruha jabbed his finger none-too-gently into the keypad and watched as the money he inserted was swallowed down with a greedy, electric whirr.  
  
Shifting on the spot and radiating a quiet, nervous energy, Uruha stared at the vending machine as coffee began to drip into the plastic cup below. It was reminiscent of how he poured all his time and effort into his friendship with Aoi, that he sometimes neglected to think about himself or his own needs.  
  
Soon enough, the cardboard cup was filled to the brim with bitter black coffee. He slipped a lid on it and enjoyed the feeling of warmth seeping into his hands and soothing his soul. It was a small comfort to his waning mood.  
  
Making sure not to spill any, he went about getting himself a bottle of water from the other vending machine before he made his way back to the studio.  
  
Everything was as he had left it, except that in the time it had taken for the coffee to brew and percolate, Aoi had already woke up. He looked tired and ready to drop. So, gathering up the last of his strength, Uruha pulled himself together and made his way over to Aoi.  
  
The smell of arabica coffee wafting around the studio soon had Aoi’s nose perking up, along with his mood. He gladly accepted the proffered drink and gave Uruha a perplexed look. It was an unvoiced question of “Why?”  
  
“You looked like you could use it,” Uruha stated with a careful smile and small shrug. “Peace offering of sorts.” And with that, he turned around and walked away, leaving the ball in Aoi’s court and leaving him to sip his coffee in silent appreciation.  
  
The rest of the day chugged by slowly thereafter, much to Uruha’s annoyance. Despite the small step he had made toward settling their differences, Aoi had yet to respond. Aside from a grateful “thank you,” everything between them had been relatively… weird and quiet. They both drifted around their workspace, giving each other a wide berth.  
  
Uruha chose to split his time between goofing around with Ruki and Reita on a spare keyboard for the longest time and listening to Kai’s nervous rambling about his upcoming date he had arranged with a member of staff he worked with often enough to build up an attraction to.  
  
Uruha was happy for him.  
  
In fact, Uruha was only too glad to hear the news that Kai was going to wind up getting laid that night; especially if it meant that Kai blowing off some steam would allow his grip on the reins to loosen a little. Sometimes he was a little too controlling in Uruha’s mind, and everyone else’s for that matter.  
  
After they finished for the day, Uruha found Reita waiting outside for him. Not long after that, they’d found their way to a nearby izakaya for some much-needed food and drink. The latter of which Uruha was more interested in. Well, had been interested in until he was reminded by a group text from Ruki that everyone’s presence would be required to show up the next day at some ungodly hour of the morning.  
  
“Hey, you’ve barely touched your beer,” Reita pointed out in concern. “That’s unlike you.”  
  
Uruha rolled his eyes and adjusted his glasses, while his free hand played with a beer coaster. “What’s the fuckin’ point? I don’t fancy a hangover tomorrow.”  
  
Reita frowned. “You’re not one to turn your nose up at a drink or three, even if we’re meant to be in the studio the next day,” he said. “What’s wrong with you, bro’?”  
  
Uruha shrugged and let the coaster drop onto the tabletop with a flat sound. He sighed and pondered on Reita’s words for a moment. “A lot of things,” he supplied and grinned when Reita punched him in the arm.  
  
“No, come on, I’m being serious, Uru,” Reita told him, regarding him with sincere eyes. “I know you better than you know yourself, nerd. There’s something going on that you’re not telling me.”  
  
Uruha shuddered and forced himself to look away lest he spill all of his secrets to his best friend. He paused in thought and studied the drink in front of him before dragging it toward himself, picking it up and downing it, all in the space of a few seconds. “I’m just out of sorts. Broke up with Hiro. Same old, same old.”  
  
“Why do I get the feeling that isn’t all of it?” While they made fun of his tendency to resemble a slow, Muscle Milk-drinking lump of rock, a lot of the time Reita was far too astute for someone that resembled a statue in most of their video comments.  
  
Pushing the empty glass away from his body, Uruha signalled the bartender for a refill before turning back to Reita. He tried his best to look truthful. “I solemnly swear on your dick that I’m fine aside from the stupid disagreement with Aoi and my recent breakup, okay?”  
  
Reita stared at him with narrowed eyes for a time before he finally relented. “On my dick? Okay, okay. If you say so,” he said and sighed, still not completely convinced. “You wanna talk about it?”  
  
Uruha laughed, low and quiet. “About what?”  
  
“I don’t know, your gay problems?” Reita said. “I’m here for you. It’s my duty as best friend to listen to your drama,” he added with a grin.  
  
Hiding an ugly snort behind his hand, Uruha smiled freely for the first time in a long while. “My gay problems?” he asked, very much amused. “You could just call them _problems_ , you know? They don’t have a sexuality attached.”  
  
“Shut up, you know what I meant,” Reita whined. “I’m serious though, if you wanna talk about it all, I’ll listen.”  
  
“I appreciate it, Rei, I do. But there’s not much to talk about.” Uruha shrugged and sighed. “Hiro broke up with me because we didn’t have much in common. He was nice though. It was amicable enough, I guess.”  
  
Reita shook his head. “I don’t fuckin’ get it, man. I just don’t,” he said, sounding confused.  
  
“Don’t get what?” Uruha asked.  
  
“My best friend is a major hottie and a decent catch but he can’t hold down a guy longer than he can hold his alcohol,” Reita stated, incredulous.  
  
Uruha laughed once more. “A compliment and a put-down? What did I do to deserve such a great friend like you in my life?”  
  
“I don’t know. But you’re stuck with me.” Reita grinned and leaned into Uruha’s side. They hugged for a short while, twisted somewhat awkwardly in their seats. Uruha savoured the feeling of having his friend close and was glad that their friendship allowed for such loving displays of affection.  
  
Reita’s warmth eased his hurt and comforted him in ways that no other person could. Understanding so deep and resolute, their friendship was mostly without judgement. Birthdays close together, friendship even closer. He loved Reita dearly. But it was a different kind of love to the kind he harboured in regard to Aoi. The love he held for his best friend was chaste and warm, built on solid foundations that had been tested by the hard times they'd met with over the years.  
  
Uruha was glad that Reita didn’t give much of a shit about his straight, male ego; he was sensitive and showed his feelings when he wanted or needed to and it was an endearing quality, one that Uruha would never allow anyone to shame him for. He would defend his friend’s softness to the very end if need be.  
  
There were times where he’d taken a few hits to the face for Reita, in his need to protect what needed protecting. Reita was familiar arms and solace when the world turned against him. He would kill anyone that tried to harm that special bond they had.  
  
Squeezing Reita a little harder, Uruha breathed in the comforting smell of leather and sandalwood. For a short moment, he let the feeling permeate and allowed Reita's signature scent to fill his senses. He basked in his friend's warmth and let it soothe his sadness, before finally letting out a soft sigh.  
  
“Thanks, idiot. I needed this,” Uruha whispered into crisp strands of hair that tickled his nose.  
  
Reita’s fingers curled into his back in reflexive acknowledgement before he pulled away and stared at Uruha with a cheeky grin on his face. “No problem, _babe_.”  
  
“Ugh, you didn’t just call me that,” Uruha scoffed in mild disgust and rolled his eyes as he resisted the urge to push Reita off his bar stool.  
  
“Isn’t that what you all call each other?” Reita said, then laughed.  
  
“Shut up, bastard,” Uruha responded. “You’re an embarrassment to gay culture.”  
  
Reita pouted. “Hey, don’t bring my fatherless upbringing into this.”  
  
“Don’t call me ‘babe’ then,” Uruha stated with a shrug and stuck his tongue out. “Now, help me eat this food and tell me how you’re doing because we haven’t talked properly in ages and I missed your dumb ass.”  
  
“Dude, that’s gay,” Reita said with a fond smile. “But, yeah, I missed you too, nerd.”  
  
Catching up with Reita, getting to speak with ease and not having to worry so much about what he could or couldn’t say, was freeing. By the end of their short evening out, he felt so much more refreshed and less stressed. Reita helped recharge his batteries, always had done in fact, and for that, he was forever grateful to his best friend. They talked about meaningless stuff and things of a more serious nature, and all of it had ensured that a weight was lifted from his shoulders.  
  
They’d even discussed Reita’s need to secure his happiness with Asami and the possibility of marriage. At that news Uruha beamed brightly, barely able to express just how elated he was for Reita. Sometimes he forgot that, yes, Reita had matured despite his still childish ways. And much to his joy, Uruha was assured that should anything come of the thoughts in Reita's head, that “No doubt you’re gonna be my best man, best friend. As for Ruki, maybe I can convince Asami to make him her maid of honour.”  
  
For the first time in a long while, Uruha entered his apartment without the feeling of dread and loneliness. He felt warm and happy, and a little fuzzy inside. Life was great, he was in his prime, and he had no worries in that moment. Of course, he was slightly buzzed from alcohol so that probably had something to do with the feelings of positivity.  
  
Though, he wasn’t so stupid to think it would last. He knew for sure that it wouldn’t but he hoped that maybe for once, the feeling of contentment and ease with his place in the world and his life would linger long enough to influence his mind come the moment of waking up the following morning.  
  
After brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed, he flopped onto the mattress and soon fell asleep. Life looked good from where he lay, dreaming up the notion of comfort and warmth; happiness and security. From where he lay, maybe, just maybe…  
  
Life wasn’t such a nightmare after all.


	10. So, I Suppose It's Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **~*~Happy holidays!~*~** I hope you all have a lovely time celebrating however you choose to go about it and may you all have a great new year! :3  
>    
>  I was going to post this tomorrow but I had the foresight to realise that I'll probably be suffering from a major food coma then and thus incapable of any activity. |D Anyway, onto the chapter! See you next year at some point~ ♥

It was late and Aoi had yet to eat, let alone shower. He was sitting in bed, staring at his laptop. The glare of the white screen took a toll on his eyes, they felt dry and uncomfortable, and he was beginning to feel the strain of tiredness and the beginnings of a tension headache. He wasn’t even halfway through answering the many emails in his inbox but already he was considering calling it quits for the night.

It seemed like that was how the whole day had been for him; exhausting, despite having done next to nothing at all. Well, aside from tuning up some of his guitars, checking over and getting his equipment ready for the recording sessions that were soon to come, and catching up with mainly the band and those members of staff that they’d be working closely with over the coming months.

But, really, that wasn’t any reason to feel so lacking in energy.

No, the main reason for how he felt, as it applied to most areas of his life, was Uruha. He was feeling terrible for what he’d caused. And still, Uruha defended him, looked out for him, even when he wasn’t deserving of it.

To say he had been out cold while the others had been talking wasn’t completely truthful. Yes, he’d been very much asleep before Uruha had come in from checking his order over but with Ruki’s voice a fraction louder than it needed to be, Aoi had drifted in and out of consciousness throughout Ruki and Uruha’s back and forth.

He’d heard the irritation in Uruha’s voice, the disappointment and the defiance in ratting him out further. He didn’t understand why Uruha was unwilling to shit talk about him. Well, actually, he knew why Uruha wouldn’t. It wasn’t in Uruha’s nature, he just wasn’t a vindictive person and he certainly wasn’t one to talk about people behind their backs.

Even through their disagreement, he was loyal to and respectful of Aoi and it hurt. It made things harder for Aoi to accept. He was stuck. Between moving on and wanting to stay where he was—in self-inflicted purgatory.

He heaved a deep breath and shut off his MacBook, depositing it onto the floor with careful movements, mindful of the body lying next to him. He turned to his side and stared at the sleeping form of Masako.

She was good to him. She could be something he needed. So why was it not coming naturally to him? She was the obvious option out of all this, a solid bet even.

So why wasn’t he putting all of his money on her?

It should have been simple and in thought, it was simple; Masako was someone dependable and there, she was loving and nurturing but not in an overbearing way—she let him do as he pleased but asked him to rein it in when needed. Understanding and accepting in most cases while remaining independent and aloof, Masako was more than enough to keep his attention for far longer than any other woman in his life had.

His mother even approved of her, though she had yet to meet Masako in person. There had been brief phone conversations when he'd been in the shower or otherwise indisposed and had asked her to answer the phone on his behalf.

With everything she gave him and knowing that everything he needed could be found in her, it should have been as easy as counting to three. Yet, it wasn’t. It was going to require an effort he found hard to pull forth, it would require an adjustment period and some serious cold turkey.

The prospect of which, for a food lover like himself, wasn’t something he particularly wanted to contend with. Even if that veritable turkey was Uruha, and not in fact at all edible. Well, at least not in the strictest of definitions.

But that didn’t stop his heart, much to Aoi’s annoyance, from wishing for just a taste of what Uruha had to offer.

The idea of giving up Uruha was daunting though he knew it was for the best. But some things weren’t always so black and white. In fact, everything was a huge grey blob, nothing made much sense at all, and the denial of that which he loved most was without a doubt going to hurt him more than he would surely like.

His mother once told him that life was a constant learning curve, fraught with hardship. He snorted. _Who knew that could apply to love as well_ , he thought to himself.

As if sensing his discomfort, Masako stirred under the covers beside him and he heard her groggy, disembodied voice from somewhere beneath them. “You’re still awake?” Masako asked, her voice but a quiet mumble, as she stretched and turned to face him.

Her face was partly shrouded by blanket and shadow and her long hair fell into her eyes as she squinted in the gentle glow of the lamp on Aoi’s bedside table. Aoi shrugged and smiled. Things didn’t make much sense these days but Masako’s sleep tinged voice and grumpy frown eased some of his torment.

“I was just finishing up,” he sighed, and with a gentle hand, he brushed strands of hair from her face. “Did I wake you?”

Masako leaned into the touch and shuffled closer to him, pulling the covers with her as she did so. “Yes but it’s okay. I have tomorrow off,” she said before she broke off into a near soundless yawn. “You were shifting around a lot, what’s wrong?”

After removing and placing his glasses on the bedside table, Aoi moved to lie in a reclining position against the pillows and tucked his legs under the covers. Masako wasted no time in curling up into his side, moulding herself to the shape of his body. Kissing her forehead, Aoi wrapped his arms around her and welcomed the warmth and love that radiated from her. Unconsciously, he let a hand brush through her hair in a soothing movement.

“Ah, in that case, sorry for waking you, babe,” he said, adding yet another something to the ever-expanding list of things he had to feel guilty over. “And nothing’s wrong,” he added with a quiet sigh.

She moved her head upwards and he knew from experience that she was rolling her eyes at him, unconvinced by his words. His suspicions were confirmed when she let out a huff. “Uh huh, sure.”

“Nothing’s wrong, really,” he stressed with a voice so strained that even he knew that not even the world’s most gullible person would believe his words.

“Yes, because you just _love_ to sigh for nothing’s sake,” she answered with dripping sarcasm.

Aoi made a noise of frustration. He knew she wasn’t planning on dropping it anytime soon, she had a tenacity that rivalled his in some ways. It was something to admire really, and underneath it all, he knew it came from a place of love and support. She was trying to help him.

“So?” she prompted once more, punctuating it with a nudge of her nose against the underside of his chin. “What’s up? What’s troubling you?” Her lips brushed softly against the skin of his neck as she spoke and it forced him to suppress a shiver. She was worried and it pained him.

He didn’t deserve her worry. He only deserved her wrath.

Aoi frowned. What was he supposed to say?

 _The truth_ , his mind echoed back. He snorted to himself and forced back a bitter laugh.

“Uru and I kind of…” He paused to think. “We had a falling out. I looked through something I shouldn’t have.”

Masako pinched his side and scolded him in a teasing tone. “What have I told you about looking at other people’s porn collections?” she said, pretending to be shocked.

Aoi laughed and couldn’t help the fond smile that formed on his lips. She had a way of making light of problems that made things easier to digest and accept. “Sometimes I hate you,” he told her, mirth shining in his eyes.

She grinned up at him. “You could never hate me,” she said, confident and sure.

It was true. He really couldn’t.

 _But you could hate me_ , he found himself thinking as he shifted to better see her face.

He kept the smile in place and nodded his head in agreement. “You know me too well,” he said and leaned down to kiss her.

Pushing away the stray thought that on some levels, she didn’t know him at all—let alone know what he was potentially capable of, he focused instead on Masako and the way her eyes, that stared at him with such affection and love, slipped shut and how she sighed against his mouth, melting into him.

The kiss was a gentle brush of lips that parted and pressed together softly. It served to warm him up and calm him down all in the same breath. Her embrace was comforting and her lips acted as a cooling balm to open wounds; whenever they weren’t falling out, they were falling into each other.

If only he could fall a bit more, fall a bit harder, for her. Everything would hurt so much less and would make so much more sense. On paper and in theory, they were perfect for each other. If only he could get his life together long enough to make it happen for them both

Masako smiled into the kiss before she finally pulled away, breaking them apart while still maintaining their close contact. She pressed a hand to the side of his face and smoothed her thumb against his cheek in gentle, soothing motions as if she were calming down one of her paediatric ward patients at the hospital she worked in.

Staring at him with sincere, understanding eyes, she finally replied. “And I know that you and Uruha will sort it out, you’ve been in each other’s lives far too long to let a silly thing get in the way of your friendship. You need to let your ego go and then it will be all good.”

“How is it you know that I’m the one with the issue?” he asked her, incredulous.

She patted his face before cupping it and drawing him in. “Because, Uruha doesn’t strike me as one to hold grudges,” she responded in a knowing manner.

Aoi huffed. “I can’t apologise… It’s not that simple.”

She laughed and closed the gap, kissing him chastely before speaking once more. “Honey, it’s only as simple as you want it to be,” she stated. “But for now, _I’ll_ make it simpler for you, you should cuddle me and sleep. Then tomorrow, you can suck it up and fix what you perceive to be broken.”

He rolled his eyes, accepted defeat and pulled the covers over their bodies. After tucking them both in, he got comfy and cuddled with her like she asked. Wrapping an arm around her stomach securely, he pulled her close and breathed in the scent of strawberry and apple shampoo and let it wash over him in lulling waves.

“G’night, babe,” he whispered and pressed a kiss into soft hair.

She moaned quietly in acknowledgement, already beginning to fall back asleep.

It wasn’t long after that he fell asleep to her rhythmic breathing, surrounded by the warmth of her body and the soft cocoon of blankets.

When he finally awoke, it was to the sound of Masako singing _Happy Birthday_ , a little off key in his ear, in an almost whisper.

He yawned and stretched, seeking out her mouth to gently quiet her. Pulling back, he blinked the sleep from his eyes and groaned. He was still tired but a little bit more awake. “You’re a few months too late for that. My birthday has been and gone,” he grumbled.

“Hush, old man, I brought you breakfast in bed. Don’t be a grumpy shit-head,” she said as she carefully plonked a tray in his lap. “Happy birthday, dear Star,” she sang louder this time, quickly finishing the song and dodging out the way of annoyed hands that threatened to tickle her sides.

“What time is it?” Aoi asked, instantly perked up by the smell and thought of a home cooked breakfast. He slipped his glasses on his face and hurried to shovel the delicious broth of noodles and veggies into his mouth.

She checked her watch briefly and watched as he slurped up the noodles, happy that he seemed to enjoy her cooking. “It’s about ten past six. You said you had to be in the studio for eight, right?”

He nodded and made a loud appreciative noise at the food she’d made for him. After swallowing a large mouthful of vegetables, he opened his mouth to speak. “Mm, yeah, Ruki wanted us in early for song selection,” he told her, before going back to eating. He pointed at the bowl of food and gave her a thumbs up, as he talked around his food. “This is so good!”

She lay down on the bed and shrugged at the muffled compliment. “It’s no problem. Consider it a thank you for taking me to work yesterday,” she said and smiled at him in a grateful manner.

They chatted for a little while as Aoi finished his food. Eventually, he followed her through to the kitchen, in search of coffee, where they sat and talked about their upcoming work schedules. Masako was going to be busy for the next month or so, but they’d try to work out areas where they could spend time together.

Knowing that they’d find time to be with each other when their schedules allowed it, normally Aoi wouldn’t force the issue but he had a feeling that being in the studio would be a lot more stressful than it usually was. Trying to get over Uruha without much interaction from Masako would send him reeling back into bad habits and obsessions, he was sure.

That was something he didn’t want to happen. Especially with the insistence that he should settle things with Uruha and move past it.

Now that he was thinking about it, it was kind of imperative that he and Uruha were on speaking terms at the very least—recording an album required communication and a great commitment on so many levels. Maintaining a decorum of childishness on his part wasn’t going to help anyone. Responsibilities abound, it was very apparent that in this case, he was required to be an adult and face the problem head-on.

So they agreed, unbeknown to her the reasons behind it, that she was to stay over at least once a week to make up for their time spent apart.

Though, she did make a passing comment about how everything between them seemed a little bit more serious than it used to be. Aoi let it slide with a casual shrug and hoped she wasn’t observant enough to pick up on what was going on inside his head. He knew without a doubt that she would be heartbroken should she ever found out about half of the things that went through his mind.

He finished up his coffee, poured the remaining dregs down the sink and dumped the cup on the sideboard with the intent to wash it and other dishes after he got back. “I’m gonna go get ready, you’re welcome to join me in the shower,” he announced and turned to her with a suggestive grin.

Masako snorted. “Mm, I would…” She paused for effect and laughed at Aoi’s eagerness. “But I’d end up hearing from Ruki how I made you late and screwed the band over and the album won’t be released for another five years or whatever other melodramatic thing he would come up with.”

“I see your point,” he agreed. “No one wants to deal with that drama, not even Ruki himself.”

She grinned and took a sip from her cup. “Speaking of the little guy, how is he and everyone? Aside from Uruha, that is.”

Aoi grimaced at the mention of Uruha’s name. “They’re annoying but doing good, I guess. Well, for the time being anyway.” He sighed. “We’re usually all good until everyone gets into the swing of things and we end up arguing, like an old married couple, over what sounds best.”

“Sounds like fun,” Masako replied, sarcasm ever apparent. “Well, you know where I am if it all gets too much and you decide you want a little fun on the side without your wives knowing.” She winked and held a straight face for approximately a second before she giggled.

Aoi shook his head in amusement and enjoyed the way her laugh rung in his ears and made his apartment a little bit less lonely. “Yeah, I’ll find you sat at my kitchen table, laughing your head off at your terrible jokes. Sounds like fun,” he told her, mocking her earlier words.

She stuck her tongue out at him and flipped him off. “Go take a shower, idiot.”

Once out the shower, dried and dressed, he gathered his things together and placed a kiss in passing to the top of Masako’s head as she sat on the sofa watching the news. With a quick goodbye, he grabbed his keys and was about to exit the apartment when he heard her shout, “Remember to apologise to Uruha!”

He ended up shutting the door a little louder than necessary but he was adamant that was down to a nonexistent gust of wind and not the nervous energy that settled inside his ribcage at the prospect of actually _talking_ to Uruha.

Not five minutes later, he was in his car and driving out of the parking garage, dreading what was to come.

It seemed like the world was determined to prolong the anxiety he felt as he hit every red light on his way there. The constant stop and start of the car and traffic echoed how he felt and had him thumbing the steering wheel nervously along to the music drifting out of the radio as he tried his best to push away negative thoughts.

 _It’ll be fine_ , he told himself, repeating the mantra in his head over and over, until slowly he realised that it was Uruha and he didn’t hold grudges. It _would_ be fine. Though that also had him feeling all new trepidation. He didn’t want it to be fine.

Fine meant status quo, status quo meant repeated cycles of mistakes. And in his experience, fine never meant _fine_. When people said they were fine, they were usually far from it. It always meant something other than the actual definition of the word.

Aoi sighed. By the time he reached their company building, time seemed to have crawled to a slow and life seemed to weigh down on him. Even the building in front of him seemed to loom over him, dark and ominous not unlike the clouds overhead, as he parked his car.

Once out of his car, he found himself entering the building and walking down quiet hallways until he came to the elevators and pressed the call button. He waited there for a while, watching the numbers on the display pass by slower than usual.

He was so focused on watching them count down until the lift reached the ground floor, that he didn’t hear anyone approach, let alone say anything.

A hand appeared in front of his face and he was startled by Kai’s exuberant voice. “Oi, stop ignoring me,” he exclaimed, though he was smiling.

Blinking, Aoi stared at him as his brain slowly ticked over, processing like a low-end PC. “Oh, sorry, man. Didn’t see you there. I was off in my own world.”

Kai shook his head and brushed it off. “No harm done,” he said, easy as ever. He was forever smoothing over everything to keep the peace, even at the expense of himself. “I’m used to you lot ignoring me anyway.”

Aoi grinned, feeling a little sheepish at that notion. “Why the hell do you put up with us? We’re such dicks. You should kick our asses.”

“You know full well I could kick your arse, I just choose not to,” Kai spoke softly. Memories of past fights surfaced in their minds, wounds now healed but the scars still remained from an earlier time where everything was an adjustment period until they found their place in the band. “You’re like my brother, Aoi. You all are. Besides, I like where I’m at. It’s like I serve as a punching bag for you idiots.”

Aoi shook his head. He loved Kai but he would never truly understand him. He knew Kai was constantly stressed but he lived for it, along with their constant bullying. “You’re a masochist, you know that right?”

Kai chuckled. “Yeah, you’re probably right. But just think,” he began. “Without me, you’d be tearing each other’s throats out and the band would never get anywhere. This way you have someone semi-responsible to relay shit to management and someone to rebel against. Or ignore without too many repercussions.”

Aoi raised an eyebrow. “When you put it like that, I kind of see what you mean,” he said. “Maybe we should start getting you gifts for Mother’s Day, to show our appreciation,” he added as an afterthought and grined at the firm punch that landed on his upper arm.

“I should have aborted you at birth, you have a face and an attitude that not even a mother could love,” Kai lamented and sighed, staring up at the ceiling.

“Oi!” Aoi gasped in mock offence. “I’ll have you know, _your_ mother loves me very much!”

The lift signalled that it had arrived just as Kai burst into an amused fit of obnoxious laughter. A second later Aoi dragged him by the arm into it and pushed the button for floor three. “Why are you such an embarrassment?” Aoi whined. “God, I can’t take you anywhere, _mother_.”

“Consider it payback for all those times that you and the other idiots embarrassed the shit out of me,” Kai said, all the while failing to hide a smirk.

Aoi shivered and watched as Kai’s smirk morphed into something much brighter. Somehow, it seemed more sinister.

“Are you telling me that you keep a tally of all the stupid shit we’ve done and plan on getting your own back at some point or another?” he asked, just a little bit scared at the thought. They all knew that Kai had a darker side but what that side was capable of, no one knew.

“Who knows?” Kai replied. His voice was low, a near whisper mixed with a hint of threat. It clashed with the sweet smile he had on his face and Aoi wondered how the fans had yet to see through Kai’s guise of innocent cuteness.

Perhaps it was the dimple? _That thing must have power over people_ , Aoi thought to himself.

“Maybe you’ll wake up one day to find all your precious ladies gone. Or maybe you won’t. We’ll just have to wait and see,” Kai added as an afterthought and shrugged for emphasis. “My drumkit and I have yet to forget what you did to it when you were drunk that one time.”

It was hard not to notice that there were parallels between Kai and the unhinged villain in the crime drama Aoi had recently watched on TV. He found himself wondering that perhaps Kai had been a mob boss in a past life.

Pouting, Aoi wasn’t sure what to think. “I was and still am _truly_ , deeply sorry for wrecking your drumkit. I even paid for it to be fixed. So could you perhaps leave my wives out of it? They’re innocent in all this. I’d rather you set my car on fire or dip my toothbrush in the toilet.”

Kai grinned. “Maybe, I will. Maybe I won’t,” he said once more for dramatic effect, just as the doors opened with a jarring _ding_. “You coming? I hear you and Uru have some making up to do.”

Aoi’s eyes widened and worry set in. Had he heard that right?

“Wait, what?” he asked. “How did you know about that?”

The previous banter and joking threat involving his guitars vanished from his mind, replaced by the nervous guilt that he felt earlier. For a short moment he’d all but forgot about Uruha and that whole dilemma, and now that Kai knew… He was probably going to be in for it if he didn’t fix everything between them soon.

Kai smirked. “I have my sources.”

 _Sources? What sources?_ He thought for a second before it fell into place.

“Ruki,” Aoi growled in realisation. “That little shit, I’m gonna kill him.”

Trust Ruki to let something like that slip. The question of whether it was deliberate or not was another thing entirely. He’d be having words with him later, apparently.

“Please don’t. I don’t want to have to find a new vocalist at such a pivotal stage in our band’s life,” Kai told him with an exasperated sigh.

Okay, maybe Kai was right. Maybe they really were a bunch of children.

“Can I not just strangle him a little bit?” Aoi asked, not at all serious but definitely annoyed. Though it wasn’t any match for the underlying annoyance in Kai’s words.

“No,” Kai stated, leaving no room for argument. Lagging behind him, Aoi regarded his friend carefully. Somehow he felt even worse. It looked like Kai had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn’t need this on top of everything else he had to worry over.

Kai paused mid-step and turned to face Aoi once more with a knowing look and an encouraging smile. It was a look that Aoi had seen time and time again. He knew Aoi felt bad and he was giving him the time to fix it.

“No, you can’t kill him...” Kai continued, thinking to himself. “But you can spike his coffee with salt if that helps?” he said with a mischievous smile.

Aoi supposed that Kai had to get his kicks from somewhere, somehow. It made sense, they really were a bunch of frustrating idiots.

“Hey, Kai, have I ever told you that I love you?” Aoi asked, returning the grin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Kai said with a shrug and a roll of his eyes. Sometimes he was just a little too lenient with them all. “Now, go talk to Uruha. He texted me saying that he’s already here. Oh, and _please_ don’t force me to have to get involved, okay?”

Aoi nodded affirmatively and saluted him, warning duly noted and heeded. Though, there was still one thing that was niggling away at him…

“Hey, Leader, have you ever put soy sauce in my coffee?”

Kai laughed and shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll never know,” he said as he turned to walk down the hall, more than likely in search of their manager to discuss the mess of never-ending band matters and schedules.

Aoi glared. So, that would be a yes then. _Bastard._

Upon watching Kai disappear around the corner and out of sight, Aoi sighed. The door to the meeting room was less than five feet away from him. The source of his anguish was probably sat at the table already.

Part of him was glad that Kai hadn’t been too pissed over the blip in his and Uruha’s friendship. Perhaps Kai knew that they’d sort it out before it got to be too big a deal; before it started to affect the group dynamic and the recording process.

Staring at the door to the meeting room, Aoi chewed on his lower lip. He contemplated walking in the opposite direction but forced his feet to move toward it instead. Finally in front of it, he gripped the door handle and took a deep breath in, bracing himself for what was to come, and let it out as he pushed the door open.

He could feel Uruha's eyes on him the instant he walked through the door and into the room. It was unnerving to no end, though in some ways that was better than outright being ignored. Despite that thought, he wasted time staring around the room in order to avoid Uruha’s expectant gaze. It was childish, but he wasn’t quite ready for that just yet. Meeting Uruha’s eyes meant talking and he wasn’t any good at that. But silence, on the other hand, was deafening and it hurt more than words, sometimes.

He moved away from the door and went to sit at the table.

The meeting room was simple; it consisted of a table and enough chairs for everyone to sit. Very little decoration, two abstract yet colourful paintings in total, on cream walls. He knew from experience that meetings like this would take an age and that those four walls and two framed pictures would eventually become oppressive and boring.

Finally, with nothing left to stare at, Aoi gave into his fears. Looking up, he was met with Uruha observing him quietly from the chair he sat in, opposite him. Uruha’s face was calm, devoid of emotion, and his eyes mirrored that. Somehow this didn’t feel like a meeting between friends, more so it felt like a meeting of nations coming together to resolve a decades-old conflict.

And then after a minute of silence, Uruha forced a timid smile his way in lieu of a greeting. Aoi sighed under his breath and let the tension seep out his body. Uruha was ready to make peace and the only person holding up that process was Aoi himself.

“He-hey,” he blurted out, unrefined and unrehearsed. It wasn’t the best opener but it was something.

“Hey, yourself,” Uruha said. And then he grinned. “We’re not really good at this, are we?”

Aoi let his head fall forward and hit the table with a soft thunk. He groaned. “No, we aren’t,” he said and peered up at Uruha from his position with sincere eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Uruha nodded. “I know you are. It’s okay, I’m over it. We should be over it, okay?” he told him in his usual soft timbre.

“But…” Aoi trailed off, knowing that his words were pointless as Uruha had already forgiven him. He sighed and relented. “Fine.”

But why did he still feel like all wasn't right in the world? Why did it feel like nothing was okay? Why did it feel like the table between them was a giant, crater-sized hole; a no man's land of things he desperately wanted to say, thoughts that desperately wanted to spill out. And why did it feel like Uruha was holding something back?

Aoi shifted in his seat and sat upright once more. He regarded Uruha’s appearance and wondered what he was thinking, knowing that he would never know. “Are you sure everything’s all right between us?” he asked. He could hear the insecurity in his voice and hated himself for how weak he sounded.

“Aoi, it’s _fine_. We’re fine, we’re good, I promise you,” Uruha stressed. “There’s nothing to worry about on that front, okay?”

 _Fine_. There was that word again. Somehow Aoi didn’t believe him, but he let it drop for the sake of getting back on track… Even if that track happened to be old and rusted over, warped steel barely holding together.

Aoi nodded and tried his best to relax. “So, how’d your night out with Noseband go? I heard you both talking about going out drinking while you were messing around with his bass.”

Uruha snorted. “It was good. I got some stuff off my chest and got a tiny bit drunk in the process. Nothing too bad mind you because as you can see I actually arrived on time,” he said with a sheepish smile.

Raising an eyebrow, Aoi grinned. “Uruha being responsible? Now there’s a surprise,” he joked. Though he felt a quiet, lingering jealousy at the thought that it shouldn’t have been Reita that Uruha was spilling his secrets to.

He frowned and pushed the feeling down and tried to ignore it. Feelings such as jealousy did nothing to help matters.

The sound of a pencil being thrown at him and clattering onto the table filled the air. Uruha glared. “I do care about the band, y’know. Why must everyone paint me out to be a raging alcoholic?” he lamented under his breath.

“We don’t paint you out to be anything, you do that all by yourself,” came Kai’s amused voice from the doorway.

Aoi laughed and watched as Uruha tried his best to keep his frown intact. Inevitably, he failed and a bright smile found its way onto his face, forcing his eyes to light up in amusement. Slowly, Aoi felt their rusty minecart squeak along the track, gaining momentum once more.

Uruha chose to ignore Kai’s retort. Instead, he rolled his eyes and huffed. “Can I have my pencil back, please, Aoi?” he asked, with eyes that were hopeful and bright. “I need it for this soul-destroying meeting we’re about to have.”

His words were simple but there was an underlying question there that was meant for Aoi only. “ _Can I have my friend back?_ ”

Maybe he and Uruha had a language that only they knew how to speak after all?

Aoi smiled and nodded, rolling the pencil across the table and back to its owner. “Sure you can,” he stated, watching as Kai sat down at the head of the table and placed his laptop on the surface, along with a notebook and pen.

From the corner of his eye, Aoi noticed Uruha slowly relax into his chair and heard him stifle a yawn in his hand as a comfortable silence enveloped them. Soon enough, Kai began writing in his notebook, eyes never once leaving the page as he jotted down, what Aoi imagined to be, things of an important nature.

The serious look of concentration on Kai’s face meant only one thing: life was going to get harder from here on out, and the time that they used to slack off would become almost nonexistent.

It wasn’t long after that when Ruki and Reita filed into the room; one sipping on Starbucks and wearing oversized sunglasses, while the other squinted against the light, looking a little worse for wear. Just as they sat down, the door opened a final time and in walked two of the band’s managers, along with another staff member to take notes.

Kai waited until everyone was settled before he looked up from his writing and clicked his pen shut. He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward, and smiled eagerly, seeming to take pleasure in the tired and grumpy faces gathered at the table, and announced in a tone that was far too chipper and light for such a morbid time of day, “Who’s ready to spend the rest of our lives deciding on songs?”

Everyone, sans the staff, groaned and thus began the long, drawn-out process of showing each other their work, in various states of finish. In a twist that came as a shock to no one, Ruki’s compositions accounted for the majority of the material that had been dumped on the table, the rest having been made up by a combination of Uruha and Aoi’s ideas.

After discussing the bare-bones of what the album’s concept was going to be, they listened to each individual song first. From there it was a process of discussion; back and forth, over and over, talking about the theme and image of the album and how the sounds they had listened to or were in the process of listening to, related to that concept and whether or not they would fit.

They were nothing if not thorough when it came to making music, that was one thing they could all agree on. The rest, however, wasn’t so simple.

It was tedious work, mostly because they all had to agree one hundred percent on everything before any of the music they had come up with was put on a list of songs that were to be worked on and turned into a full-fledged demo ready to be listened to at a later date for yet more tracklisting decisions.

As much as they loved the work they did, it was a constant process of making mistakes and refining things, editing and changing, writing and recording, designing and pouring over album art, until everything was finally at a stage where it could be mastered in its entirety and finally released.

However, until they reached that point, it was slow and tiring. And most of all, when it came to this part of the album making process, it was exceptionally boring. The excitement of hearing everyone’s contributions and ideas only lasted for so long before it was lost to the repetitive conversation and depressing surroundings.

Aoi sighed and leaned back in his chair as he stared at the ceiling.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since they’d started the song selection for the initial stage of their album, but he was sure it had been hours and all they had to show for that time was a list that consisted of three definite and five potential songs for use.

And it would continue on until they landed somewhere around double digits on the definite side of things. That thought alone had him ready to fall out of his seat and collapse on the floor in a pile of atrophied limbs and a near comatose brain.

He felt something brush against his leg, interrupting his train of thought, and looked down at the source. His eyes were met with the sight of Uruha’s sock-covered, slipper-clad foot as it gently nudged his knee. Looking up from under the table, Aoi stared at Uruha’s bored face. He was slouched in his seat and looked to be barely functioning as Ruki droned on about how the album was to be dark, emotional and full of depth.

Uruha rolled his eyes and pretended to hang himself. Aoi snorted under his breath and looked around the room to make sure no one was watching them, before responding with his own little charade. He put a gun to the side of his head and pretended to pull the trigger, imaginary brains splattering everywhere.

Uruha grinned and mouthed a quiet “Me too.”

Suddenly, Ruki’s voice came to an affronted stop as he noticed Reita almost falling asleep in his chair. Everyone watched on as Ruki threw an eraser at his face and continued watching on as Reita startled upright, choking on drool. Aoi and Uruha sniggered at the spot-on impression of a deer caught in headlights as Reita let out a panicked, “I agree with Ruki, his idea is great and we should go with it!”

It was obvious to everyone that Reita had no clue what Ruki had been talking about as he had clearly fallen asleep.

Ruki was about to say something in reply but the stern sound of Kai clearing his throat stopped him. Thankfully, Kai seemed to hear all their prayers and answered them with a swift response.

“Okay, let’s take a break for now and continue this in an hour or so. We all seem in need of food and coffee,” he told the room and directed his annoyed gaze first to Reita, and then to Aoi and Uruha. Giving them a pointed look—as if he knew what they’d been doing previous to that—he added, “Or a good beating, in some cases.”

In that moment Kai looked like how Aoi felt—tired, stressed, irritated, and on the brink of collapse.

He made a mental note to rein in his behaviour and try to be a bit more serious.

A collective sigh of relief resounded through the room and everyone got up from their seats, stretching out tension and wandering off in search of whatever their bodies were craving at that moment. For Aoi, and Ruki it seemed, it was the need for dreaded nicotine.

Aoi slipped Uruha a careful smile and motioned that he was going for a cigarette before he followed in Ruki’s footsteps.

They walked in silence through the hallways until they came to a quiet area where they could kill time and themselves in peace, one inhalation at a time.

After lighting up, they each puffed away on their chosen brand and sighed in bliss. Life seemed so much better, so much easier to accept, with a cigarette in hand or between lips. Smoking was a time for introspection; a moment in the madness where he could gather up the remaining shards of his sanity and just… breathe.

Minutes ticked by before the spell of comfortable silence was broken by Ruki’s gruff voice. “Did Kai give you shit over you and Uru?”

Aoi frowned. In his boredom he’d forgotten all about Ruki spilling the beans. “Nah, he was pretty fair to me, to be honest,” Aoi told him with a shrug. He was too exhausted for harsh words. “Why’d you snitch?”

Ruki worried his lower lip as he kneaded the heel of his Croc into drab carpeting. “I’m sorry, it slipped out. I wasn’t really thinking. I was on the phone with him last night. I was really tired.” His eyes were soft and full of remorse. “He asked me why ’ruha looked annoyed and why you were avoiding each other.”

Aoi let out a small noise of understanding and slung an arm around Ruki’s shoulders. “My balls are still intact if that’s what you’re worried about…” He paused to blow a stream of smoke out the side of his mouth before he continued. “And Uru’s over it. So, I suppose it’s fine and I guess I forgive you. Besides, I kind of needed the kick up my backside, y’know?”

There was a series of spluttered sounds from Ruki as Aoi ruffled his hair a little too roughly for it to be considered purely affectionate. “I hate you,” Ruki grumbled as he faffed around trying to fix the damage. “You seriously know how to hurt a guy, huh?”

Aoi snorted and rolled his eyes. “Hey, at least I didn’t take Kai’s advice on the payback front and dump salt into your coffee,” he said and stubbed his cigarette out on the top of the nearest bin. “Anyway, I’m off to go find the Shōnan duo and that ball of stress we call our drummer. You coming?”


	11. I Fucking Hate You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post! Things happened, life happened. Hope it's somewhat enjoyable. See you in the next one, maybe? Now, I'm off to go watch the Men's Free Skate with the wife. The figure skating portion of the Olympics has been amazing so far. *nerds out* :3 

Uruha huffed softly and allowed his head to slump against the table top. The hours had passed by painfully slow. Morning came and went, leading to afternoon which soon gave way to evening and with it came the unnatural glow of neon and LED emblazoned on the sides of buildings. It was now almost seven o’clock at night and the sound of ongoing rush hour floated up from the street below, wafting in through the open windows of the meeting room along with a cool breeze that did nothing to ease the summer heat. He was glad that he had the foresight not to drive to work this time. The idea of being stuck in traffic on his way home was something he was unwilling to contend with.  
  
He was too damn tired for that and his brain was functioning at a diminished capacity.  
  
If the fans didn’t appreciate them before this, they would surely appreciate them now. The album in its most primal state—scrawled in chicken scratch upon dogeared, fingerprint smudged paper—sat in the middle of the table. Thirteen tracks that accounted for almost every hour they’d been gathered around the table in the suffocating, dull meeting room. Ten hours and an ungodly amount of coffee consumed, along with endless opinions stated, was all it took until they had finally reached a stage where they all, or more specifically, Ruki, seemed happy with the chosen songs.  
  
Two of the songs that had been chosen were Uruha’s own. Of which, one was a lethargic song full of gritty guitar and distortion that broke off into a frenetic, heavier sound that verged on angry and almost manic by the end, and the other being the composition that he, with Aoi’s help, had come up with. It was a much softer sounding song; a ballad that managed to retain both the sound of prominent guitars backed by a drumbeat that leaned a touch on the heavier side and the sound of sadness and longing. It almost sounded like a cry of loneliness and loss that spiralled down into a rushing feeling of hopelessness; somehow it was heartbreaking, full of a lingering darkness, and hauntingly beautiful all at once.  
  
After a short discussion with Ruki over the phone the previous night and some more discussion during their allotted breaks in between the song selection process, Uruha could say that he was happy with how Ruki planned to use the latter of his two songs.  
  
It amused him to no end when Ruki announced that he already had ideas revolving around his head with regard to the song itself and the album concept. While the song was most likely going to be used differently to how he imagined it, Uruha wasn’t too fussed on the matter. He had come to terms with what it meant to him versus what it meant for the band, and as much as he may have been a tad upset with the idea that it wasn’t necessarily going to involve the acceptance of loss in the way he originally intended, Ruki assured him that it would feature that theme in some small way.  
  
His stomach grumbled quietly and he yawned. Ravenous didn’t even begin to cover it and he was in dire need of his bed. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open. Especially when Ruki’s voice drawled on, touching on a deep cadence that lulled everyone into a hypnotic state. He was tired, they all were.  
  
Just as Uruha’s eyes were about to close, a nudge to his side jostled him from the verge of sleep. Looking up, he glared at the offending elbow that was gently jabbed into his side, and followed the arm up, past a muscled bicep to stare into the concerned face of Reita.  
  
“You okay?” he asked. His voice was soft and lacking its usual teasing.  
  
Uruha sighed and shook his head, trying to shake the fatigue from his brain. “I’m about to die of starvation or exhaustion, not sure which,” he announced, just a tad on the overdramatic side of things.  
  
“You and me both, Uru,” a shattered Kai piped up from the head of the table.  
  
An audible gurgle sounded through the room and everyone turned to stare at the source of the noise. Aoi bit his lip and averted his eyes in embarrassment as he mumbled a quiet sorry and slid lower into his seat.  
  
Ruki huffed when he realised that he was no longer the centre of attention and that everyone had given up on listening to him explain his artistic vision. “Well, seeing as we’re all agreed, it seems that we’re done here,” he said and waited for the occupants in the room to object. When they didn’t, he continued, “I’m going home to work on some lyrics.”  
  
Reita frowned. “Is that any way to mark the beginning of our album production? Shouldn’t we be celebrating this occasion?” he asked.  
  
“Yeah, what Noseband said,” Kai added, jumping at the idea. The sudden change in his demeanour had Uruha scoffing under his breath. How Kai could go from looking drained and dead to switched-on and raring to go was beyond him. “Why aren’t we going out to get wasted? We should make a night of it. And I can bring a date!”  
  
Everyone rolled their eyes at Kai’s thirst and Uruha went back to staring at the ceiling while listening to the back and forth discussion of where they’d go to eat and who else to invite.  
  
Before long Uruha found himself entering a cosy, high-end restaurant. They’d all piled into a minivan shortly after it was decided that it was to be a small affair, the band and their partners, and a few close members of staff.  
  
Begrudgingly, at the prospect of food, Ruki’s surly self had given into peer pressure, though he wouldn’t be drinking. Instead, it was an unspoken rule that he’d be sticking to soft drinks and helping himself to whatever he wanted from everyone else’s plates. Uruha was thankful that someone else wasn’t so eager to party. He didn’t feel like drinking, he really just wanted to be at home in bed.  
  
As they waited at the bar for the rest of their party to arrive, Ruki grumbled to whoever would listen. “I’m hungry.”  
  
Uruha snorted. “Of course you are. Don’t worry, gremlin, we’ll be eating soon enough.”  
  
“Only if those three idiots’ tagalongs get here faster,” he sighed, letting out a grumpy huff of air.  
  
Nudging him in the side, Uruha gave him a disapproving look. “That wasn’t very nice, Ruki.”  
  
Ruki hummed low in his throat and averted his eyes. “I know, sorry. I’m just cold and hungry,” he whined.  
  
“That’s not an excuse to be a dick, though,” Uruha admonished, this time a little more forgiving upon noticing that Ruki was indeed shivering. “Are you really that cold?” he asked, unable to help the concern he felt over his friend.  
  
“Yes, I am really that cold. The air conditioning in this place is going to turn me into an ice cube. What if I get sick?” He paused and scuffed the front of his shoe against the polished floor. The scowl on his face lost some of its edge and he sighed in assent. “I know, I know. I take it back. They’re not the tagalongs, you guys are,” he said and grinned in a way that could only be described as entirely Ruki; equal parts cocksure and endearing, and full of waggish charm.  
  
Inwardly sighing at how Ruki was the only person in the world that could somehow push his luck without getting into trouble, Uruha laughed and shook his head.  
  
“You’re a dramatic, little shit,” he said affectionately and placed an arm around Ruki’s shoulders in order to pull him close. “It’s just lucky that we love you a lot, eh? Otherwise, I’d let you freeze your nuts off,” he added as he tried his best to keep Ruki warm.  
  
They talked in muted tones after that, about everything and nothing, until Masako appeared, bidding them all a polite hello before she joined Aoi at his side. She was followed shortly after by a vibrant looking Asami, sporting a bright maxi dress and an even brighter smile. Thankfully, and much to Ruki’s delight, they weren’t forced to wait much longer than another minute or few, as Kai’s exhausted-looking infatuation rushed through the door and over to them, greeting them all with a hurried, apologetic, “Sorry, I hope I’m not late. Traffic was a nightmare.”  
  
Soon enough, they were all seated at the largest table in the restaurant. Slowly they trickled off into their own separate groups until everyone present was engaged in a myriad of conversation while Aoi and Reita went off to order drinks at the bar for them all.  
  
Uruha, meanwhile, stared at the menu in front of him. Unable to decide what he wanted to eat, he drummed his fingers on the tabletop in a bid to ease the anxiety that continued to build inside of him.  
  
Anxiety at what, he wasn’t sure.  
  
Except that was a lie. He knew full well what was causing his anxiety, or rather; he knew what was exacerbating it. He just didn’t want to acknowledge it despite not being able to ignore the culprit who just so happened to be sat next to him, less than three inches away.  
  
That in itself was a hard fish to swallow. Harder still, was how Aoi had pulled her chair out, ever the gentleman, and once settled in his own seat, began lavishing her with attentive affection. Jealousy was a cruel mistress and Uruha found himself harried by her conniving clutches.  
  
That said, he wasn’t a malicious or petty person by any means. He would never begrudge Aoi’s happiness and it seemed, that when everything was going well between them, Masako and Aoi looked to be the perfect couple. He was happy for them, he really was.  
  
While he may have been hopelessly in love with Aoi, it wasn’t like he would ever do anything to intentionally hurt him. And that same courtesy extended to include Masako, as well.  
  
So it wasn’t that Uruha was ignoring her deliberately. It was more a case of not knowing what to talk about with her. He fidgeted with a napkin and tried to ignore how his stomach churned as it tied itself in knots at the fact that she seemed to be staring at him.  
  
It was the kind of gaze that lingered and stayed with him. Intense, yet somehow soft. Knowing, perceptive even. He felt something in it. Though, what that was, he couldn’t say.  
  
Giving up on looking at the menu, Uruha flipped it shut with a soft sigh. He wasn’t very hungry, he decided. The way he felt, it was probably better that he just stick with a bowl of tempura udon. Which left him wondering what to do in order to kill time before Aoi and Reita got back from the bar with their drinks, or until a member of the waiting staff arrived to take their order.  
  
It seemed that fate had already tossed a coin and decided for him. “Uruha,” Masako’s voice interrupted his fretting. “Do you mind if I call you that?”  
  
Uruha blinked and turned to face her, unable to avoid the issue of not talking any longer. He wasn’t one to be rude, and he knew that if he was, he’d get shit from Aoi over it. It took a moment for his brain to process the simple question. “Uh, yes, yes, of course,” Uruha stuttered, almost feeling incapable of speech.  
  
“Yes, as in no I am not allowed to or yes, I may drop the honorifics?” she asked, confused.  
  
Uruha blushed and laughed, a little embarrassed. “Oh, I mean yes, it’s okay. Just Uruha is fine,” he stated.  
  
Masako laughed and bowed her head in gratitude. She smiled up at him bright and friendly. Nothing like some of the other women Aoi had dated in the past. He could see why Aoi liked her. She was pretty but more so, she seemed genuine and smart.  
  
“I’m sorry for forcing you into a conversation,” she told him, inclining her head in an apologetic manner. “It’s just that, if you don’t mind me saying, I’d like to get to know you. I’ve been with Aoi for a while now and for all he talks about you, I’ve yet to talk to you myself,” she added, polite as ever.  
  
It was true, Uruha noted. Aoi had yet to introduce her to anyone. Well, he had, in passing, but it was rather abrupt and everyone had been busy that day, so many months ago. Thinking about it now, it was probably unfair of Aoi to keep her hidden away from the rest of them. Though he knew how important the band was to each of them, so perhaps it made sense to keep private matters out of it—less messy that way, and it made for fewer distractions.  
  
He nodded and smiled, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine. I’m sorry if it seemed like I was ignoring you,” he told her. “I... I’m not very good at the whole meeting new people thing. I tend to get caught up in thought patterns that hinder my ability to actually open my mouth and say a simple hello.”  
  
Masako laughed softly. “It’s okay, Uruha. I understand. Talking is hard, so many things can go wrong. Speaking of, did Aoi apologise to you today?”  
  
Uruha hummed quietly and nodded his head. “Yes, he did. How come?”  
  
“Good, I’m glad he heeded my advice. He’s such a stubborn man, sometimes you’ve got to steer him in the right direction,” she replied, smiling fondly. “But I’m sure you know that already, you’ve known him far longer than I have.”  
  
Frowning, Uruha took a second to work through her words before he spoke. “Are you telling me that you harassed him into talking to me today?”  
  
She shrugged. “Harassed? Not so much. I just insisted that he put his ego aside and say sorry. He was at fault for whatever it was, he told me as much.”  
  
Uruha let out a small noise and stared at her in wonder. “I was expecting our disagreement to go on longer than it did, to be honest. He really is stubborn, so thank you for helping put an end to it,” he told her and gave her a grateful smile.  
  
Shaking her head, she brushed off his words. “I didn’t do anything, really. If left to his own devices, he would have got really pissy and I get enough of crying children in my line of work as it is,” she said. The amused look on her face was infectious and he soon found himself relaxing in her presence and easing into their conversation.  
  
From the sporadic manner in which Aoi talked about her, he had learned that she was a nurse. That she was intelligent and soft-spoken, considerate and sincere in her calm demeanour. But from talking to her now, he could also tell that she was direct and rather liberal.  
  
It was refreshing and Uruha found himself approving of her.  
  
And so far, from the minute amount of time spent in her company, she seemed to be funny, too. Her sense of humour was a tad dry and sarcastic, hard to get used to but considering the band had that same sense of humour, she fit right in and Uruha found himself understanding just why Aoi liked her.  
  
He suspected that she would be able to hold her own if she ever let loose from the way she spoke and acted. Going so far as to wondering out loud if she could outdrink even him, which lead them to a certain topic of discussion that Uruha found himself cringing at.  
  
“So, Aoi tells me that you like tequila?” she asked.  
  
Uruha groaned, blushing once more. He was going to kill him. “I suppose he told you about me falling over the coffee table?”  
  
Masako laughed, free and easy. “I was over a few days later and there was a large stain on the carpet. Aoi explained that you’d both drank a little too much.”  
  
“I... got a little out of hand. I’m just glad I didn’t break his guitar,” he replied and hid an embarrassed smile behind his hand.  
  
She patted his arm and winked before whispering, “It’s okay, Uruha. I get like that too at times. Sometimes it’s good to let go, though.”  
  
Oh, yes, he was really beginning to like her.  
  
A moment later, Aoi’s lithe figure was at his side and placing a tray of drinks down on the table. Both he and Reita handed everyone their drink orders before Aoi finally turned to Uruha with a sly grin. “Getting to know each other, I see. Not interrupting anything am I?”  
  
Masako was quicker, piping up before Uruha could even respond.  
  
“Yes, and it seems like I chose the wrong band member to date,” she lamented with a wistful sigh.  
  
Aoi laughed. “Wow, that stings. First, you take my wireless receiver and now you’re taking my girlfriend. What next? My fans? My heart? Stop stealing from me.”  
  
Shrugging, Uruha smiled his way through the pang of guilt and the ache of longing he felt in his chest at Aoi’s words. “Still sore about that, huh? I gave you it back, eventually,” he huffed.  
  
“Liar,” Aoi hissed and grinned before turning back to Masako in order to waggle a finger at her. “As for you, there is to be no fraternising with other men; gay, straight, or otherwise,” he told her in an authoritative tone, though there was nothing to it—just an underlying mirthful buoyancy that layered his words. “It would bruise my sensitive male ego,” he added, pretending to be sad.  
  
Masako stared at him with soft, amused eyes as she sipped from her glass of wine. “Mm, we couldn’t have that now, could we, Uruha?”  
  
Choking back a snort, Uruha responded, “Of course not. Besides, he does enough of that by himself anyway. He doesn’t need our help bruising his ego.”  
  
Overhearing their exchange, the table erupted in laughter as Aoi sat down. Feathers truly ruffled, he scoffed. “Tch, I see that ‘gang up on Aoi’ day is in full swing.”  
  
“Full swing? Oh, darling, no,” Masako replied and smiled lovingly at him while squeezing his thigh. “It hasn’t even started.”  
  
An hour later, despite what he originally told himself, Uruha was well on his way to being drunk—they all were, in fact. Or at least verging on fairly tipsy.  
  
Uruha watched over the table with a quiet fondness.  
  
The alcohol in his system had done its job well; it dulled his senses and calmed his nerves. The tension he’d felt previously seemed to have vanished, melting away into nothingness along with his anxieties. He couldn’t quite remember why he’d felt like that in the first place but he didn’t press the matter. Instead, he smiled at the image of Ruki and Asami whispering in hushed tones, engaged in deep conversation. They were almost inseparable, leaning into each other as they chatted about the fashion industry and all manner of ideas for possible tour goods.  
  
He felt the warmth of alcohol and love spread through his body. Ruki treated her like his little sister. While he was acerbic and sometimes impatient with everyone else, with Asami he was always soft and protective, always supportive in everything she chose to do—even giving her a chance at being on the team that helped to make Ruki’s ideas a reality.  
  
Looking around, he couldn’t help but feel a certain sense of pride. Maybe he didn’t have anyone to share his life with on a romantic level, but he had them; his closest friends, his second family.  
  
“Hey, ’sami, look,” Reita announced on his return from the bar once more. He plonked a tray loaded up with drinks down on the table, nearly spilling them all in his excitement. By some miracle, he wasn’t yet wasted enough to lose his balance or coordination completely, though he was fast approaching the limit of his alcohol tolerance. “It’s your favourite, Asami Super Dry,” he stated with a cheesy grin as he pointed at the can of beer in his hand and chuckled at his own horrible joke.  
  
The rest of the table groaned at his failed pun, while Asami rolled her eyes and laughed. “I love you, blockhead,” she sighed happily. “How does that pun even work?”  
  
He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. It worked in my head—”  
  
“Before you actually thought it through,” Asami finished for him. She paused and smirked before adding, “I guess this means that you’re Asahi Super Dried up on good puns, ne?”  
  
Uruha snorted and Ruki choked on his cocktail. Masako, to her credit, hid her laughter well. And as for Aoi, there was a resounding thud coupled with a pained moan of laughter and the rattle of crockery as his head hit the underside of the table upon reaching under it for the chopstick he dropped.  
  
Kai, on the other hand, looked up momentarily from his conversation with the lovely staff member of his current dreams and sighed. “That’s a common theme with Reita, though, isn’t it?” he noted, oblivious to Asami’s pun at Reita’s expense. “Misses the point and doesn’t think things through.”  
  
Reita smirked and looked over at Kai as he carefully passed everyone their drinks. “Could say the same of you, Leader,” Reita replied. “Looks like you missed the joke this time around, and your mouth, apparently,” he continued and inclined his head to a stain on Kai’s shirt.  
  
Frowning, Kai let out an annoyed sigh. “Damn it, this shirt was brand new.”  
  
“It’s a shame you don’t still work at Babies R’ Us, Asami,” Uruha said sadly.  
  
“How so, Uru?” she asked.  
  
Uruha directed a deceptively sweet smile Kai’s way as he responded. “Could have got a discount on a bib for Kai.”  
  
“Oh, ha-ha, hilarious,” Kai groused.  
  
Reita leaned back in his seat looking smug. “So this is how it feels to not be the butt of a joke,” he said to no one in particular and gloated.  
  
Ruki let out a bark of laughter. “Don't get used to it, idiot.”  
  
“You’ll always be a joke to us,” Aoi added with a smirk, while still rubbing at his head.  
  
Kai shrugged and rolled his eyes. “But that’s okay, I suppose.”  
  
Uruha looked up from setting his beer glass down when he felt expectant eyes on him. He stared at them all with a blank look. Was he supposed to say something nice and sappy?  
  
Going back to his food, he sighed and nudged some udon noodles around the bowl. “This is gay.”  
  
Reita laughed loudly. The cheesy smile plastered on his face rivalled that of the glare of a one million candle torch. “I appreciate the sentiment, _sweet cheeks_.”  
  
“I fucking hate you,” Uruha replied with a scowl.  
  
“I love your thighs, too,” Reita stated.  
  
Aoi snorted. “Doesn’t everyone?”  
  
The night continued on like that until it was brought to a premature close when Uruha accidentally knocked a drink over. It spilt over the lip of the table and landed all over Masako. He realised belatedly that he should have stopped five drinks into their meal but peer pressure and good company kind of had that effect on him.  
  
“It’s okay, honestly,” she told him as he mumbled slurred apologies and bowed his head. “It’s an old skirt and I have some clothes at Aoi’s. It’s okay, really. It’ll wash out.”  
  
“Can I pay for the dry cleaning bill?” he asked sluggishly, to which she waved her hand in dismissal.  
  
“Nonsense, don’t be silly,” Masako said and smiled at him. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she stared down at him. “Really, there’s nothing to worry about.”  
  
And then she and Aoi had left, promising they’d be fine making their way back to Aoi’s apartment by taxi.  
  
That spiralled into Kai and his date leaving some ten minutes after and not long after that, Ruki bid his goodbyes, too. Eventually, it was just himself, Reita and Asami. The rest of their staff had left shortly after they’d finished their meal which was understandable, they had much work to do so no one had held it against them—even if it was going against an entrenched drinking etiquette.  
  
Which left them to make their way home by themselves. A task in itself considering how wasted they were. Though, somehow, between Reita managing to pay their bill with minimal effort despite how drunk he was and their wandering the streets longer than necessary thanks to Uruha’s own idiocy, he made it home safely.  
  
Out of the three of them, Asami had fared the best which left her looking after them—forced to drag their drunken, incessantly rambling arses through the streets in order catch a cab home. Her and Reita’s gym obsession had come in handy when at one point Uruha ended up stumbling into a lamp post and took a tumble amidst an arms-wide and voice off-key, avant-garde rendition of Queen’s _We Are the Champions_.  
  
He only had vague memories of his brief love affair with the lamp post, and of being dumped at his front door where he wrestled with getting his key in the lock for a solid ten minutes, because he felt the bump on his head when he awoke in his living room with his face smooshed into the corner of the couch.  
  
He groaned audibly and tried to blink away the painful hangover that thumped away inside his skull. “At least it was a good night,” he whispered to himself, wincing as even that action grated on him.  
  
Pushing himself up, he realised that he’d drooled all over himself at some point in the night. He grimaced and wiped at his mouth. After finding his glasses stuffed down the side of the sofa, he noticed his phone blinking with unread messages. “Fuck, it’s not even eight, yet,” he muttered to himself.  
  
_“Don’t bother coming in today, everyone’s dying.”_  
  
It was Ruki. Dramatic as ever and probably hungover. Though he had no excuse; ever a lightweight, Uruha had only seen Ruki nurse three sickly sweet looking cocktails. “What a baby,” he mumbled and scrolled through to the next message.  
  
It was from an unknown number.  
  
_“Hi, Uruha. This is Masako. I got your number from Aoi. I’m sorry if that’s a bit forward. I just wanted to let you know that I had fun last night. It was a pleasure to have talked to you, finally. Maybe we can chat again sometime?”_  
  
Uruha shook his head and smiled. She didn’t need to be so polite with him. He was about to respond when he noticed that there was more to the message.  
  
_“P.S. I hope that you’re not too broken up about spilling your drink. What a pity, waste of a good beer, eh?”_  
  
He snorted lightly and typed a quick response and saved her number to his contacts. _“I’m really sorry about that. Hopefully, I can make it up to you at some point. And I promise I won’t spill any alcohol on you this time._ ”  
  
Dropping his phone back onto the table, Uruha got up from his seat and decided to brush his teeth and grab a quick shower. Once done, he realised that he’d left wet laundry in the washing machine overnight and went about sorting that mess out. It took him an hour to get through everything but he felt accomplished when it was all finished.  
  
After giving his flat a once over and tidying up any and all mess, he figured that seeing as studio time was out, for now, he could get some grocery shopping done. And on the way there, he could kill another bird by dropping off the clothes that he previously borrowed from Aoi.  
  
All in all, it would be a relatively productive day - not so much on the music front but definitely on the daily chores and life front. He noted with amusement that despite being rock stars, they were still regular guys and life still called to them; there was no escaping piles of laundry and empty fridges, no letting up on bills that needed to be paid. Their lives might not have been nine to five like every other person’s but he couldn’t deny that it sometimes bordered on twenty-four seven.  
  
Throwing on something a bit more appropriate than the boxers he’d been wearing around the house, he got ready and, after he felt himself to be presentable enough, grabbed his bag. He quickly made sure to shove everything he needed into it before exiting his apartment.  
  
It wasn’t long before he was entering the nearest station and jumping off at the nearest stop to Aoi’s apartment block.  
  
Uruha groaned at the loss of air conditioning and frowned at the humidity in the air. It was hot, sticky and gross. Thankful for long legs and decent stamina, he didn’t have to deal with the heat for too long. In record time he was rounding the corner to Aoi’s place and passing through the main doors.  
  
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Uruha exited the lift and made his way down the hall in search of Aoi’s door. Standing in front of it, he knocked quietly and waited. It was only then that it occurred to him that he probably should have called or texted before coming over. What if he was still sleeping?  
  
He let out a sigh of relief when he heard the sound of muffled movement from inside the apartment and shortly after, the door opened revealing Masako looking slightly worse for wear.  
  
“Uruha?” She frowned in confusion. “Already taking me up on the offer?” she asked, and finally smiled.  
  
Uruha laughed and blushed. “Actually, I’m just here to drop off some clothes I borrowed from Aoi a little while ago.”  
  
“Oh, he’s out right now,” she said. “Mentioned something about food and painkillers while I was in the shower. Do you want to come in and wait?”  
  
He shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I don’t want to intrude.”  
  
“Well, if you’re sure…” She trailed off when she saw the large bruise and small cut on his forehead. “What happened to your head? That looks painful.”  
  
And just like that, Masako went into nurse mode; firmly dragging him into the flat, ignoring all protest as she fretted over the state of his war wound.  
  
Uruha huffed lightly as she examined him. Focused in her task, she asked him some simple questions while gently cleaning the area. “Do you have any symptoms of concussion?”  
  
“No, I’m fine, really,” Uruha assured her. “I just hit a lamp post, is all. Other than a hangover, I’m good. No big deal.”  
  
She narrowed her eyes and poked his shoulder. “I swear, you men are all the same. Damn idiots.” Shaking her head, Masako smiled as she finished up. “Well, the good news is that you don’t need stitches. Though, I do recommend that you keep hydrated in this heat and if you start to feel dizzy or anything, you have my number so don’t hesitate to call me. Concussions can sometimes develop a day or so after any trauma to the head.”  
  
He saluted her and laughed. “Yes, nurse. But I swear, I’m fine. If anything, it probably knocked some sense into me.”  
  
“Keep talking like that and _I’ll_ knock some sense into you,” Masako warned and gave him a pointed look.  
  
“I can see why Aoi likes you,” Uruha told her sincerely. “You’re good for him.”  
  
Masako gave him a tentative smile. “Ah, that’s good to hear. Some days I think he doesn’t like me as much as I like him. But I figure that’s just… Aoi being Aoi.”  
  
Uruha nodded. “If you don’t mind me saying, sometimes Aoi finds it hard to allow himself happiness. Sometimes, I get the feeling that he thinks he doesn’t deserve it. I don’t think it’s a case of him not liking you…” He paused and shrugged. “Rather, it’s that he thinks you’re too good for him.”  
  
Masako hummed quietly before letting out a soft sigh. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”  
  
“If it helps, I still don’t know where I stand with him and I’ve known him for going on seven years.” He frowned and ignored the way his heart thumped sadly in his ribcage.  
  
“It seems I’ve still a lot to learn and understand about him, huh?” she wondered aloud.  
  
“Don't worry, he loves you. He’s just, what did you say earlier… All men are idiots, right? Well, he’s an idiot.” He winked and gave her hand a comforting pat. “He’ll get there, you’ll see,” he told her before getting up and making a move to leave.  
  
“Want me to give him those clothes for you?” she said as she showed him to the door.  
  
“I almost forgot about that,” he replied with a sheepish grin. “Sure, that’d be great. Also, thank you for looking at the cut on my head, you didn’t have to. I owe you a lunch or something, on top of the skirt incident.”  
  
Laughing, Masako shook her head. “You don’t owe me anything, really. It’s my job, remember? Besides, you helped me as well. Your words, I mean… I’ve been struggling a lot lately with some things, the reassurance helps.”  
  
“Well, if you ever need to talk, you have my number, too. I don’t know how much an idiot like me could help, but the offer still stands,” he said and gave her, what he hoped was, an encouraging smile. “Anyway, I better go. Sadly, the life of a rock star isn’t all that glamorous, we still have to buy our own groceries.”  
  
“Sorry to hear that,” she said and patted his arm in mock sympathy. “But, really, thank you for such a kind offer. Aoi’s lucky to have such a good person like you in his life.”  
  
Brushing it off with a small shrug, Uruha smiled. “Hey, now you do, too.”  
  
With that, he went on his way; going about his business, caught up in his thoughts while wondering if Aoi realised how Masako was feeling lately. Boy, did he understand and sympathise with her. Though, it still came as a surprise to know that Aoi failed to let even his longterm girlfriend in on everything he shut away.  
  
Uruha sighed and shook his head. He felt bad for Masako. Aoi was frustrating. But surely it wasn’t intentional on Aoi’s part… He was attentive and perceptive in most cases, so it was sort of alarming to know that Aoi was missing some vital signs of neglect. Maybe he was caught up in something outside his relationship; work frustrations maybe? Perhaps he could have a word with Aoi about it.  
  
Though with what happened the last time someone had pried into things they weren’t wanted in… Eyes flitting between deliberating over his shopping list and perusing the supermarket aisles, Uruha frowned and worried his lip as his thoughts bounced back and forth between Aoi and Masako and the pros and cons of getting himself involved in their affairs.  
  
Maybe it was best he left that topic alone.  
  
Instead, waiting for Aoi or Masako to come to him with their problems seemed like the best option. If they did, then he could try to subtly influence them to take the path of least resistance.  
  
Despite his feelings, he genuinely wanted Aoi to be happy. If that ship was going to sink, it wouldn’t be by his hands and if he could help it, it certainly wouldn’t be left to Aoi’s self-sabotaging words to run it aground either.  
  
Sometimes idiots just needed a satnav to guide them on their journey.  
  
Standing in front of a shelf of canned beans, basket in hand as he pored over the ingredients on the back of a tin, Uruha decided then and there that whenever he was given the chance, he would be the voice of reason for Aoi.  
  
Albeit, a less annoying and less intrusive one.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! ♥ Feedback is always appreciated but never required! :)


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